“in the days when the world begins to bleach and shrivel, and the sun is blotched with death. Socialist and Individualist, they'll all be a little dirt lodged deep in the granite wrinkles of the globe's countenance.”

“Nothing I do will make death disappearOr let your shudder or your knowledge go.See the world whole, and see it clearly then,A globe of dirt crusted with bones of men.If we walk, we walk on graves.- from "Shudder”

“There are people whose death leaves you with an ache of grief. A slight sting. And then there are people whose death stops time. Deaths that leave the sky murky all day long because even the sun is grieving. Deaths that shut down your muscles and stop the music. Deaths that turn every corner of your mind a shade of grey before they light up in a flame and shrivel away.”

“Sometime on a bright blue day When everything is very clear And there are no wrinkles in the sky It's good to go to a quiet place And lie down on your back and look at the world Or put your face deep in the grass And your arms around the ground And remember how it was when you were little And remember you're still the same you Only you got bigger on the outside is all that happened.”

“Dirt's a funny thing,' the Boss said. 'Come to think of it, there ain't a thing but dirt on this green God's globe except what's under water, and that's dirt too. It's dirt makes the grass grow. A diamond ain't a thing in the world but a piece of dirt that got awful hot. And God-a-Mighty picked up a handful of dirt and blew on it and made you and me and George Washington and mankind blessed in faculty and apprehension. It all depends on what you do with the dirt. That right?”

“The brown blotches of the benevolent skin cancer the sun brings from its reflection on the tropic sea were on his cheeks. The blotches ran well down the sides of his face and his hands had the deep-creased scars from handling heavy fish on the cords. But none of these scars were fresh. They were as old as erosions in a fishless desert.”