“You’re crazy.”
“And you’re not crazy? Going to Mass every Sunday, and eating a biscuit, and thinking that it’s Jesus you’re eating?”
“And you’re not crazy? Going to Mass every Sunday, and eating a biscuit, and thinking that it’s Jesus you’re eating?”
“Well, that’s very selfless of you. But I’m afraid that you have a destiny which far supersedes any consideration for your parents.”
They could let their demons sleep in peace, but they insist on prodding them into wakefulness, like naughty children taunting a mad dog.”
umps of sticky mud pattering off the wheels
raggedy old brown tweeds and gumboots
John strode long-legged down toward the gate.
steady drizzle, with a beery-breathed
slate roof, with six or seven leafless elms standing
sharply-sloping driveway led down
certain people wanted a place to hide certain remains that they didn’t want nobody to find,
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