He Died Alone Because He Was Too

Part Of The Work Of Writing A Novel Is To Uncover The Symmetries Or Connections That Make It Whole, Which Might Not Reveal Itself At First.

Bruno, My Old Faithful. I Haven't Sufficiently Described Him. Is It Enough To Say He Is Indescribable? No. Better To Try And Fail Than Not To Try At All.

There Are Two Types Of People In The World: Those Who Prefer To Be Sad Among Others, And Those Who Prefer To Be Sad Alone.

Except For When I Was Very Little And Thought That Being An "engineer" Meant He Drove A Train. Then I Imagined Him In The Seat Of An Engine Car The Color Of Coal, A String Of Shiny Passenger Cars Trailing Behind. One Day My Father Laughed And Corrected Me. Everything Snapped Into Focus. It's One Of Those Unforgettable Moments That Happen As A Child, When You Discover That All Along The World Has Been Betraying You.

I Know There Is A Moral To This Story, But I Don't Know What It Is.