The God of Endings

by Jacqueline Holland

it strikes me as fitting that art should cost the artist dearly, that the most beautiful things made by man should also be poisonous.

that moon, that downturned face with its softly pitying expression, as if it were a spectator, a theatergoer watching the small comedies and tragedies unfold again and again on the tiny world below.

None of us gets the perfect love we ought, but maybe that’s what life is for, to give us time to collect it in bits and pieces, a little here, a little there. Maybe we’re supposed to put it together ourselves slowly.”