Maybe I will go to Paris. Who knows? But I’ll sure as hell never go back to Texas again.
Everything had gone right with me since he had died, but how I wished there existed someone to whom I could say that I was sorry.
I never saw any of them again—except the cops. No way has yet been invented to say goodbye to them.
“Yes,” I said. “Isn’t it pretty to think so?”
What do these lines have in common?
Also, inexplicably missing from the list, what should be the paradigm case:
I said he was one of the last of the great romantics. I said there used to be two. But now there was just the one left. The hairy one.
(the post title via John Updike, via here)
