I have been thinking back over my story, and realize that there is a lot of manly weeping in it. My understanding is that Englishmen of the 18th century, even the end of it, did not regard tears with shame
( ... )
These are taken today at the park across from us. We go there with Hazel, our dog. You can see her in one picture. The guy is my son on his new birthday jump-stilts. He is 21, last month! It took a month to ship them. Brooklyn is drippy and gray today
( ... )
The red sound and the smell of the canon, and his horse fighting for his head. Percy swerved them off the road. Between the trees now, and the branches tore at his hat, whipped his face. Closer now, and the sound shook him, and the taste-smell was of terror.
The cold had seeped in around his ankles. There was a stick poking him in the back. Mr Kennedy had burrowed close. He was leaning against Matthew's arm, he was lovely warm, but heavy and crushing everything numb.