‘But the mingled, mingling threads of life are woven by warp and woof: calms crossed by storms, a storm for every calm. There is no steady, unretracing progress in this life; we do not advance through fixed graduations, and at the last one pause…’
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
The Naming of the Dead
'POETS day,' he reminded Siobhan. 'Piss Off Early, Tomorrow's Saturday,' she recited. (403)
'POETS day,' he reminded Siobhan.