Kindle Notes & Highlights
No matter who you are, all you are ever doing is leaving or being left or acting as the impetus to leave. Again, & again, & again. This is every story. This is the trinity.
A terrible yank settles in the basement of his heart, the lowest stair.
When Axe & Lumberjack touch, whole forests die for them.
Remember, there are infinite stories about separation. By infinite stories, that is to say that there is this story, & only this story, told many different ways. Sometimes the hand is not a hand but a sweetheart or a daughter or a house on fire. Anything can be part of oneself & anything can be taken away. Sometimes the truck is a fishing boat or a Boeing 747 or a blocked telephone number. Sometimes the abandoned never makes it free of the forest.
They love her in that golden way reserved for the untrustworthy.
Time does this, sometimes—pauses to appreciate an object of beauty. It grows so enamored that it forgets to move forward. A meadow or a clavicle or a painting might be the secret to immortality. Enough loveliness, & time will stop altogether.
Home is not in the habit of repeating
