The no puts perspective in a prism or a prison refracts. Says there are two sides, evenly negated. The no is a blooming proposition. It is active, compressed, in between splinters lies a nest of mites. Give me no to give me bliss.
The heart stops, then the lonely minutes begin until the brain follows, taking thought and memory with it, and the loss of those ravens is the loss that matters, for all we spend a lifetime guarding our hearts.
In the story, she’s skipping home from Sunday school, her pretty, pressed Quaker dress gusting against ribs, collarbone, her yellow hair a comet tail. A moving spot, a tiny lizard on the sidewalk, darts under her foot.
When it comes to pleasure, tell the whole story. Always speak in superlatives--the finest performance, the brightest note. I had my best drink, for example, a hundred yards down the beach from a most fascinating hole in the ground.