“Peel off these dusty wool blankets of apathy and antipathy and cynical desiccation. I want life in all its stupid sticky rawness.”

“I want life and in all its stupid sticky rawness.”

“I look down at myself, but I don't need to. I can feel it. My hot blood is pounding through my body, flooding capillaries and lighting up cells like Fourth of July fireworks. I can feel the elation of every atom in my flesh, brimming with gratitude for the second chance they never expected to get. The chance to start over, to live right, to love right, to burn up in a fiery cloud and never again be buried in the mud. I kiss Julie to hide the fact that I'm blushing. My face is bright red and hot enough to melt steel.Okay, corpse, a voice in my head says, and I feel a twitch in my belly, more like a gentle nudge than a kick. I'm going now. I'm sorry I couldn't be here for your battle; I was fighting my own. But we won, right? I can feel it. There's a shiver in our legs, a tremor like the Earth speeding up, spinning off into uncharted orbits. Scary, isn't it? But what wonderful thing didn't start out scary? I don't know what the next page is for you, but whatever it is for me I swear I'm not going to fuck it up. I'm not going to yawn off in the middle of a sentence and hide it in a drawer. Not this time. Peel off these dusty wool blankets of apathy and antipathy and cynical desiccation. I want life in all its stupid sticky rawness.Okay.Okay, R.Here it comes.”

“I want to lay you on that bar and take my time peeling all of this lace off.”

“All day the blanket snapped and swelledon the line, roused by a hot spring wind....From there it witnessed the first sparrow,early flies lifting their sticky feet,and a green haze on the south-sloping hills.Clouds rose over the mountain....At duskI took the blanket in, and we slept,restless, under its fragrant weight. ”

“We can all pretend to be cynical and scheming, but when we’re faced with purity and innocence, the cynical mask drops off.”