p.19 the strange bright fact that breathes and eats out there, the thing that’s not the movies

p.21 the true life is not reducible to words spoken or written, not by anyone, ever.

p.22 these are the unsorted thoughts we have looking out the train window, small dull smears of meditative panic. the sun was burning down…

p. 34 if you were any more intense you’d be a black hole, a singularity…no light escapes

p. 37 war haiku

p. 41 a government is a criminal enterprise

p. 49 a great rain came sweeping off the mountains, too strong to think into, leaving us with nothing to say.

p. 50 she heard words from inside them