Each morning, despite the unknowns, they made their legs move.
And sometimes remembering will lead to a story, which makes it forever.
What stories can do, I guess, is make things present.
Don't throw away luck on little stuff. Save it up.
Stories can save us.
Stories are for joining the past to the future.
Stories are for eternity, when memory is erased, when there is nothing to remember except the story.
You can't fix your mistakes. Once people are dead, you can't make them undead.
…he wanted to sleep inside her lungs and breathe her blood and be smothered. He wanted her to be a virgin and not a virgin all at once. He wanted to know her. Intimate secrets: Why poetry? Why so sad?...
They would get their shit together, and keep it together, and maintain it neatly and in good working order.