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Gestures are all that I have; sometimes they must be grand in nature.
Sure, I’m stuffed into a dog’s body, but that’s just the shell. It’s what’s inside that’s important. The soul. And my soul is very human.
He is so brilliant. He shines. He’s beautiful with his hands that grab things and his tongue that says things and the way he stands and chews his food for so long, mashing it into a paste before he swallows. I will miss him and little Zoë, and I know they will miss me.
People and their rituals. They cling to things so hard sometimes.
memory is time folding back on itself. To remember is to disengage from the present.
Why can’t they see that spiritualism and science are one?
I wished, at the time, that the baby would look like me.
To Zoë, I said to myself. Whom I will always protect.
my nose was near her head, I had detected a bad odor, like rotting wood, mushrooms, decay. Wet, soggy decay. It came from her ears and her sinuses. There was something inside Eve’s head that didn’t belong.
Eve had assigned me to protect Zoë no matter what, but no one had been assigned to protect Eve. And there was nothing I could do to help her.
‘That which you manifest is before you.’”
Such a simple concept, yet so true: that which we manifest is before us; we are the creators of our own destiny. Be it through intention or ignorance, our successes and our failures have been brought on by none other than ourselves.
When I investigated, I saw something terrible and frightening. One of her stuffed animal toys was moving about on its own.
It makes one realize that the physicality of our world is a boundary to us only if our will is weak; a true champion can accomplish things that a normal person would think impossible.
She rarely called me by name. They do that in prisoner of war camps, I’ve heard. Depersonalization.
The true hero is flawed. The true test of a champion is not whether he can triumph, but whether he can overcome obstacles—preferably of his own making—in order to triumph.
“Sometimes bad things happen,” she said to herself. “Sometimes things change, and we have to change, too.”
To live every day as if it had been stolen from death, that is how I would like to live.
“There is no dishonor in losing the race,” Don said. “There is only dishonor in not racing because you are afraid to lose.”
“Dad—” Denny started, but his eyes filled with tears and he could only shake his head. His father reached for him and embraced him, held him close and stroked his hair with long fingers and fingernails that had large, pale half-moons near the quick. “We never did right by you,” his father said. “We never did right. This makes it right.”
“She recanted,” he said. “They dropped the charges.”
“You’re okay,” he says. He cradles my head in his lap. I see him.
When a dog dies, his soul is released to run until he is ready to be reborn. I remember.
“He is a race car driver at heart,” the champion says.