When You Have A Healthy Appetite There

A Person Does Not Belong To A Place Until There Is Someone Dead Under The Ground.

You Can't Eat Hope,' The Woman Said. You Can't Eat It, But It Sustains You,' The Colonel Replied.

The Woman Let Out An Expansive Laugh That Resounded Through The House Like A Spray Of Broken Glass.

She Was A Ghost In A Strange House That Overnight Had Become Immense And Solitary And Through Which She Wandered Without Purpose, Asking Herself In Anguish Which One Of Them Was Deader: The Man Who Had Died Or The Woman He Had Left Behind.

I Always Had Understood That Dying Of Love Was Mere Poetic License.