We Walk The Plank With Strangers.

But When It Came Right Down To It, The Skin Of My Wrist Looked So White And Defensless That I Couldn't Do It. It Was As If What I Wanted To Kill Wasn't In That Skin Or The Thin Blue Pulse That Jumped Under My Thumb, But Somewhere Else, Deeper, More Secret, And A Whole Lot Harder To Get.

I Must Learn More About These People―try To Understand Them, Put Myself In Their Place. No, Instead I Am So Busy Keeping My Head Above Water That I Scarcely Know Who I Am, Much Less Who Anyone Else Is.

There Is No Life Higher Than The Grasstops

The Man Creates A Pseudonym And Hides Behind It Like A Worm

I Deserve That, Don't I, Some Sort Of Blazing Love That I Can Live With.