“His plans never worked out. In time,he found himself graying and wearing looser pants and in a state of weary acceptance, that this was who he was and who he would always be, a man with sand in his shoes in a world of mechanical laughter”

“With his power over time, Dor could have taken anything he desired from this new world. But a man who can take anything will find most things unsatisfying.”

“It is too late." The old man shook his head. "It is never too late or too soon. It is when it is supposed to be." He smiled. "There is a plan, Dor.”

“What was the constant?Movement. Yes. With time there was always movement. The setting sun. The dripping water. Thependulums. The spilling sand. To realize his destiny, such movement had to cease. He had to stop the flowof time completely …”

“He was doing what a man does when left with nothing. He was telling himself his own life story.”

“What about a man who sits down to wonderWhy life has cheated him?Thinks about his situationHangs his head and criesWill we pretend, his problems don't exist?He's reaching out for help-will we selfishly resist?What about your brother? He's cryingWhat about your brother? He's dyingWhat about your brother?”

“Sometimes during the night, your father awakened. He rose from his bed, staggered across the room, and found the strength to raise the window sash. He called your mother's name with what little voice he had, and he called yours, too, and your brother, Joe. And he called for Mickey. At that moment, it seemed, his heart was spilling out, all the guilt and regret. Perhaps he felt the light of death approaching. Perhaps he only knew you were all out there somewhere, in the streets beneath his window. He bent over the ledge. The night was chilly. The wind and damp, in his state, were too much. He was dead before dawn.”