“One of the petitioners, an infamous do-gooder of uncertain sanity named Warner Mifflin, had actually acknowledged that his antislavery vision came to him after he was struck by lightning in a thunderstorm.”

“A poet is a man who manages, in a lifetime of standing out in thunderstorms, to be struck by lightning five or six times.”

“He had a last name for a first name, and a last name for a last name, but only because it came after his first name (the one that sounds like a last name). Otherwise, his last name would sound like a first name.”

“Struck by lightning! Struck by lightning!”

“Whatever voice spoke him was no demon but some old shed self that came yet from time to time in the name of sanity. a hand to gentle him back from the rim of his disastrous wrath.”

“But he grins, so brilliantly, not even paying attention. “I love it when you say my name,” he says. “I don’t even know why.” “Warner isn't your name,” I point out. “Your name is *****.” His smile is wide, so wide. “God, I love that.”“Your name?”“Only when you say it.”“*****? Or Warner?”His eyes close. He tilts his head back against the wall. Dimples.”