The Knife Of Never Letting Go

Life equals running and when we stop running maybe that’s how we’ll know life is finally finished.

I’m still sweating and I’m still coughing enough to win a contest

“Wait just a minute. What’s that beside you? That empty space of nothing.”

That’s the thing I’m learning about being thrown out on yer own. Nobody does nothing for you. If you don’t change it, it don’t get changed.

This makes no sense, no sense at all, and everything feels like it’s starting to slip, like the world is a table tilted on its side and everything on it is tipping over.

cuz drunk Noise is like a drunk man: blurry and boring and dangerous.

“My Dearest Todd,” Viola reads, copying Ben’s accent as best she can. Which is pretty ruddy good. “My dearest son.”

“My dad used to say, There’s only forward, Vi, only outward and up.”

But a knife ain’t just a thing, is it? It’s a choice, it’s something you do. A knife says yes or no, cut or not, die or don’t. A knife takes a decision out of your hand and puts it in the world and it never goes back again.

Men lie, and they lie to theirselves worst of all.