“The cloth was wrinkled and twisted from the struggle. His forehead was damp, and he lay his forearm across it and stared across the room at the clock. Its pendulum rotated and gathered momentum only to slow and reverse its course. He watched it for a time and slid out of the bed to dress.”

“Just this morning you didn't seem as though you had an aversion to me. You're here in your dying patient's house, eating dinner with his wife, drinking his whiskey and watching his wife play the piano in a dark room," she shook her head and pouted her lips. "You're already in bed with me.”

“​He sighed. “I don’t remember it dying. It’s one of those things that just goes—like a storm—when does it stop raining?” Douglas flicked his hands and sniffed, staring back at Mrs. King. “I just realized I didn’t need an umbrella anymore.”

“​Crying on the kitchen floor, she looked up and gasped for breath, raking tears from her pale cheeks. “I need you,” she whispered. “Someone.”

“Alf pondered his next move. On the one hand, the savages seemed to be responding reasonably well to “How.” On the other hand they really weren’t making much progress.At least they’re not eating us, he thought.Ten seconds went by, then twenty, as Alf looked at the older savage, and the older savage looked at Alf. Finally, out of sheer nervousness, and unable to think of what else to do, Alf raised his right hand again. But this time, just as Alf began to speak, the savage rotated his spear from the vertical to the horizontal, pointing it toward Alf’s chest. Alf stopped in mid “How,” staring at the sharp pink spear tip, inches from his heart.And the savage spoke.Poking his spear tip against Alf’s chest, he said: “Can we move this conversation along, old chap? I’m getting frightfully tired of “How.”

“Where to?" said the bear.The boy wobbled back to the rear seat, concentrating as the hull rolled and bounced beneath him. He half sat and half fell onto the hard wooden bench, bashing his wrist painfully against the edge as he landed."Ow!" he said. "Just over to the other side, please." He waved his unbashed hand vaguely out across the water without looking up."Right you are," said the bear.”

“P.S. It's not schizophrenia, it's creativity, there is a difference. My voices go away after I let them tell their stories.”