But She Had Felt Since Childhod That

You Can't Stop Time. You Can't Capture Light. You Can Only Turn Your Face Up And Let It Rain Down.

The City Of Pittsburgh Gleaming Suddenly Before Her . . . So Startling In Its Vastness And Its Beauty That She Had Gasped And Slowed, Afraid Of Losing Control Of The Car

Norah Looked At Her Son’s Tiny Face, Surprised, As Always, By His Name. He Had Not Grown Into It Yet, He Still Wore It Like A Wrist Band, Something That Might Easily Slip Off And Disappear. She Had Read About People – Where? She Could Not Remember This Either – Who Refused To Name Their Children For Several Weeks, Feeling Them To Be Not Yet Of The Earth, Suspended Still Between Two Worlds.

It's Good To Be In Love.

She Didn't Love Him And He Didn't Love Her; She Was Like An Addiction, And What They Were Doing Had A Darkness To It, A Weight.