Long ago, long ago. The simple things come back to us. They rest for a moment by our ribcages then suddenly reach in and twist our hearts a notch backward.
The essence of intelligence was to know when, or if, to expose even the heart's deep need for instruction.
He might have been naive, but he didn't care; he said he's rather die with his heart on his sleeve than end up another cynic.
They told me Corrigan smashed all the bones in his chest when he hit the steering wheel. I thought, Well at least in heaven his Spanish chick'll be able to reach in and grab his heart.