Days Without End

by Sebastian Barry

Time was not something then we thought of as an item that possessed an ending, but something that would go on forever, all rested and stopped in that moment. Hard to say what I mean by that. You look back at all the endless years when you never had that thought. I am doing that now as I write these words in Tennessee. I am thinking of the days without end of my life.

His skin is made of the aftermaths of smiles.

Things that give you heart are rare enough, better note them in your head when you find them and not forget.

John Cole says in human matters there often three things rivalling. Truths fighting one with another. That’s the world, he says.