Si-aproape ca zaresc masinaria din ei preluand cuvintele pe care tocmai le-am rostit si-incercand sa le potriveasca ici sau colo, intr-un loc sau altul, si cand constata ca acele cuvinte n-au un loc dinainte stabilit unde sa se aseze, masinaria din ei se leapada de cuvinte de parca nici n-ar fi fost rostite.

… and if I don’t have her to where she don’t know whether to shit or go blind, the bet is yours.

I been silent so long now it’s gonna roar out of me like floodwaters and you think the guy telling this is ranting and raving my God; you think this is too horrible to have really happened, this is too awful to be the truth! But, please. It’s still hard for me to have a clear mind thinking on it. But it’s the truth even if it didn’t happen.

Colonel Matterson reading from wrinkled scripture of that long yellow hand:

The flag is America. America is the plum. The peach. The watermelon. America is the gumdrop. The pumpkin seed. America is television.

Now, the cross is Mexico. Mexico is the walnut. The hazelnut. The acorn. Mexico is the rainbow. The rainbow is wooden. Mexico is wooden.

Now, the green sheep is Canada Canada is the fir tree. The wheat field. The calendar.

The night is the Pacific Ocean.

He was in his chair in the corner, resting a second before he came out for the next round — in a long line of next rounds. The thing he was fighting, you couldn’t whip it for good. All you could do was keep on whipping it, till you couldn’t come out anymore and somebody else had to take your place.

You’ve got to get out
and pray to the sky
to appreciate the sunshine;

you’re just a lizard
standing there
with the sun shining on you.

If you’ll curtail your literary pursuits a moment I’ll introduce you to my counterpart and Nemesis; I would be trite and say, ‘to my better half,’ but I think that phrase indicates some kind of basically equal division, don’t you?

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