“And the odd think in Dad's voice was the sound truth makes being said.”

“One day many years ago a man walked along and stood in the sound of the ocean on a cold sunless shore and said, "We need a voice to call across the water, to warn ships; I'll make one. I'll make a voice like all of time and all of the fog that ever was; I'll make a voice that is like an empty bed beside you all night long, and like an empty house when you open the door, and like trees in autumn with no leaves. A sound like the birds flying south, crying, and a sound like November wind and the sea on the hard, cold shore. I'll make a sound that's so alone that no one can miss it, that whoever hears it will weep in their souls, and hearths will seem warmer, and being inside will seem better to all who hear it in the distant towns. I'll make me a sound and an apparatus and they'll call it a Fog Horn and whoever hears it will know the sadness of eternity and the briefness of life."The Fog Horn blew.”

“Dad," said Will, his voice very faint. "Are you a good person?""To you and your mother, yes, I try. But no man's a hero to himself. I've lived with me a lifetime, Will. I know everything worth knowing about myself-""And, adding it all up...?""The sum? As they come and go, and I mostly sit very still and tight, yes, I'm all right.”

“No," said a voice, "the only thing wrong on a night like that is that there is a world and you must come back to it.”

“Whatever she is now she's better than she was," said Bedloe. "Being dead is better than being dull, being dead is better than not being aware.”

“I want to wake people up and make them care about being alive in this universe.”

“When your dawn theater sounds to clear your sinuses: don't delay. Jump. Those voices may be gone before you hit the shower to align your wits.Speed is everything. The 90-mph dash to your machine is a sure cure for life rampant and death most real.Make haste to live.Oh, God, yes.Live. And write. With great haste.”