Quote
"Your baby grows a tooth, then two, and four, and five, then she wants some meat directly from the bone. Its all over: shell learn some words, shell fall in love with cretins, dolts, a sweet talker on his way to jail. And you, your wife, get old, flyblown, and rue nothing. You did, you loved, your feet are sore. Its dusk. Your daughters tall."
T
Thomas Lux
