“A craftsman pulled a reed from the reedbed,cut holes in it, and called it a human being.Since then, it's been wailing a tender agonyof parting, never mentioning the skillthat gave it life as a flute”
“I am the hole on the flute that Gods breath flows through.”
“his job was the very least important part of his life, never to be mentioned except in irony.”
“The tune was wailing and mournful, almost flagrantly so, and the total effect was of a heartbroken piccolo being parted forever from its bagpipe lover.”
“I am a hole in a flute that the Christ's breath moves through.....listen to this music”
“The merry-go-round was running, yes, but...It was running backward.The small calliope inside the carousel machinery rattle-snapped its nervous-stallion shivering drums, clashed its harvest-moon cymbals, toothed its castanets, and throatily choked and sobbed its reeds, whistles, and baroque flutes.”