The Book of Lost Friends
A NovelLarge Print - 2020
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"Sad thing when stories die for the lack of listenin' ears."
"Lonely perches like a buzzard on my head. It pecks at my eyes so all I can see is a blur outside the window as the half moon blows its breath over the stars, dimming them down."
"Crystalline frosts would sugar the mornings, and the first snows might tease the tips of dying grass."
"Thunder troubles the horses and lightning cuts the sky like a hawk's gold claws ready to scoop up the world and fly off with it."
"This town is an old dog with a bad temper. We have rubbed its hair the wrong way and stirred up fleas. If allowed to return to its slumber it might let me stay, but it's made sure I know that if not, it's ready to bite."
"He's a strong man, but death has opened the door. It's for him to decide if he'll step through it soon, or at another time long in the future."
"You know, there is an old proverb that says, 'We die once when the last breath leaves our bodies. We die a second time when the last person speaks our name.' The first death is beyond our control, but the second one we can strive to prevent."
"Sleep finally comes like a summer dry river, a trickle that's shallow and splits around rocks and downed branches and tree roots, dividing and dividing, till by morning it's the thin bead of gathered morning dew, dripping lazy off the army tent overhead." page 348
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