t nightfall, atthe oppressive moment of transition, a storm of carnivorous mosquitoes roseout of the swamps, and a tender breath of human shit, warm a...
"
My God, if I had a heart, I would write my hate on ice, and wait for the sun to show.
"
Each man is master of his own death and all that we can do when the time comes is to help him die without fear of pain.
"
Don't worry," he would say, smiling. "Dying is much more difficult than one imagines.
