Sublime

By the end, if you are still alive, you are breathing through a tube in a hole in your throat, while your soul, perfectly awake, is imprisoned inside a limp husk,

Indeed, the pretty face that had once ensnared both Boy and me became pudgy and empty. Leola had joined the great company of the walking wounded in the battle of life.

Second, I remember that we are not alone. Even now there are thousands of beings in heaven watching what is going on down here—a “great cloud of witnesses,” the Scripture says.

I know she is coming I know she will look And that is the longing And this is the book

Kugel set off, the wind in what would have been, some years ago, his hair.

As I got older, I also found myself agreeing more with Nietzsche, as is no doubt inevitable once your plumbing starts to fail.