Time
Time our subtle poison runs toward us, and through us, and out the other side. We’ve never been in the future except for a moment. Time’s poison is in the air we breathe and the faint taste in the water we drink. We are dogs who love their morning walks but not their names. They don’t know they’re dogs, but no one had the right to give them the wrong names. Time never told us to have faith in the sepulcher that awaits us. The night carves us into separate acts, but I do have faith in that turbulent creek of blood within me. -Jim Harrison, In Search of Small Gods












