I Can't Even Trust My Own Imaginary

I Can't Even Trust My Own Imaginary Dog. How Much Lower Can A Person Get?

A Piano Might Fall On Your Head, He Said, But It Also Might Not. And In The Meantime You Never Know. Something Nice Might Happen.

It Was Love, Of Course, Though I Didn't Know It Then And Finn Was Both Its Subject And Object. He Accepted Love Instinctively, Without Responsibility Or Conditions, Like A Wild Thing Glimpsed Through Trees.

Staying Alive Was What We Did To Pass The Time.

It Was Not A Big Smile, Not Particularly Bold Or Polite Or Ironic Or Glib, Not Asking For Anything Or Offering Anything, Not Stringy Or Careless, Not, In Short, Like Any Smile I Had Ever Experienced Before. But Such A Smile! You Could Burn A Hole In The World With That Smile.