“I suddenly dreamt that I picked up the revolver and aimed it straight at my heart my heart, and not my head; and I had determined beforehand to fire at my head, at my right temple. After aiming at my chest I waited a second or two, and suddenly my candle , my table, and the wall in front of me began moving and heaving. I made haste to pull the trigger.” HeartMadeTwoMovingFireFrontsWallMy HeartTablesDeterminedTemplesChestsCandleTriggersHasteRevolver Book:Short stories Source: Short stories
“Grief does not expire like a candle or the beacon on a lighthouse. It simply changes temperature. It becomes a kind of personal weather system. Snow settles in the liver. The bowels grow thick with humidity. Ice congeals in the stomach. Frost spiderwebs in the lungs. The heart fills with warm rain that turns to mist and evaporates through a colder artery.” HeartKindDoeTurnsGrowsGriefRainWarmSnowWeatherIceSettlingStomachCandleThickLungsTemperatureMistFrostLiverBeaconsLighthouseArteriesBowelsHumidity Book:Nocturne: A Play Source: Nocturne: A Play