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1 " Death is a raging child, and we are its broken toys. Death is the body betraying the soul, stabbing it in the back after many years of marriage and connubial unification. Death divorces us from godhood, and not just from sin. It is a spectacular, nuclear climax. And because we have all fallen in love with existing, death is sudden heartbreak. Death is a god to many of us--an idol set upon a plinth. A false god. But instead of fearing God, we fear death. Remarkably, we don't fear the light, perhaps because all us are under the illusion that we ARE the light. "
― , Tropic of Wonder
2 " The night is the frenetic fox darting across a roadway in a flash of orange. It is being tailed by the police for a whole fucking mile, with both hands firmly wrapped about the steering wheel. It is spying a shooting star blinking across the horizon, and everybody saying did- you-see-that. The bustling truck-stops. and the blotter- dark nights, when driving safely seems difficult. The fush-fush of cars speeding ahead in an overpass highway. The bloated raccoon knocking the garbage cans over and the waddling lamp-eyed possum strolling past, within a few feet even, as you sit on the front porch and smoke. It is drunken talk at 1 AM, conversation of substance, depth and style, when all errant ideas are concocted. It is fanning motor-heat lathering the chest and skinny legs in the cold car. Sudden, abrupt episodes of fatigue that make you retire to bed earlier than usual. This is the night given to snapshot, light-bath revelations that sends one running for notepad and pen, and repeating, out loud, the premise over and over as you stride. The night is a strange, curdling scream at 3 am, wondering if it is a cat, a coyote, a baby. "
