Kristina and I are arm-wrestling again. I’m re-reading my novel Quest to see if it’s ready for publication. (I think it is.)

Kristina says “Add more description. I want to know what the places and people look like. And make it longer. It’s too short.”

I say, “Wait ’til I finish re-reading, and then I’ll decide if I can live long enough to make additions.”

I just paused in re-reading, because I noticed yet again how quotable the book is. Within the span of just a few pages, I jotted down a flurry of zingers.

Only the eagles know more of distance.

The future is the past released.

The road seems to know
where both of us go.

You have seduced me with truth!
“Water has many voices,” he cried in delight, “and Truth has many parts.”
. . . events shaped themselves according to their ends. The end is in the beginning.

We have been through death together. Now we are ready for life.

I have learned to listen everywhere, to speak truly and not squander trust. I have to seek no single answer to any question. This is the school of the world, and I do not yet know how much there is to learn, or how often I am to be tested.


And there are words to songs. I’m devising melodies to sing them to. That’s coming along nicely. Maybe I’ll make a record. If I’m not careful, this book could take forever.

Songs, like the rejuvenated Widow:

Once I had a son.
Now I have two.
Two are better than one.

One heart full of rue
is better than two.
Still better, none.


I’ve got to hurry and finish reading the book, slow reader that I am, because I know you want to read it.

You do. You know you do. You can hardly wait.

I know the feeling.

Meanwhile, you should read my other book already available, For Lo These Many.

It’s good too.