Every word was a cheat. Every thought and feeling was false. I played the game. Everything I touched, I cheapened.
I don’t want the void. I don’t want fantasies. I want some- thing real—not another fragment of truth to puzzle over . . . .
There’s something beyond all this. We see hints in books and music.
Heaven is boundless, and the sea is beneath you.
There were ghosts in the wind, whispers from the snow or the invisible meltwater flowing beneath.