See, our job was simple: keep on living. Her job was harder, the hardest. Her job, her work, was to let the machine of survival break down, make the factory fail,to know that this war was winless,to know that she would singlehandedlydestroy us all.

I haven't given up on trying to live a good life, a really good one even

I'm afraid that I won't do the right thing in the face of disaster. Or, I'm afraid I will be stupidly brave.

Now, there's a twisty summer storm outside, and I desire nothing but this storm to come. The calm voice on the TV tells us to stay safe. Says, Stay safe and seek shelter.

You say you love the world, so love the world.

But love is impossible and it goes on despite the impossible.

I used to pretend a lot. I'm very good at it,

How good it is to love live things, even when what they've done is terrible, how much we each want to be the pure exonerated creature, to be turned loose into our own wide open without a single harness of sin to stop us.

I knowyou don’t always understand,but let me point to the firstwet drops landing on the stones,the noise like fingers drummingthe skin. I can’t help it. I willnever get over making everythingsuch a big deal.