If it weren’t for the pressure, he thought, there’d be no time. The only thing that brings us together? Treacle. Marzipan, mortar shells, the moon and memory. It’s all in my Lucite tarantula paperweight. We dance off into a corner and mash.
"Why go further? One might conceivably rectify the rhythm, study all out and arrive at the perfection of a tiger lily or a china doorknob. One might life all out of the ruck, be a worthy successor to—the man in the moon. Instead of breaking the back of a willing phrase why not try to follow the wheel through—approach death at a walk, take in all the scenery. There's as much reason one way as the other and then—one never knows—perhaps we'll bring back Eurydice—this time!"
"The scenes that illustrate this book are all about us. For illustrations, please look closely at real cities. While you are looking, you might as well also listen, linger and think about what you see."
