Yet, step by step, we carry on. O America, we've become larger than anything the world has ever seen, and clumsier than anyone could have imagined, dragging our tail along the ruined ground. Here I am, still struggling with my passions, my fears. Maybe one way to be an instrument of peace is to honor the struggle, to recognize the dignity in the struggle. The sun is a never-ending source of light, yet it's burning.
Death is in no hurry.
He'll be patiently waiting for me one night on the front steps, smoking a cigarette, looking at the stars. I'll have to agree. Maybe I'll sit down beside him, ask for a cigarette. I promised to drive a friend to the airport this morning, so I'm up at four. In my forties, I used to get up at four every morning in order to write.