After a while, another voice said: one, two, three, four- and the universe came into being. it was wrong to call it a big bang. that would just be noise, and all that noise could create is more noise and a cosmos full of random particles. matter exploded into being, apparently as chaos, but in fact as a chord. the ultimate power chord.
To be hopeful, to embrace one possibility after another--that is surely the basic instinct. Baser even than hate, the thing with teeth, which can be stilled with a tone of voice or stunned by beauty. If the whole world of the living has to turn on the single point of remaining alive, that pointed endurance is the poetry of hope. The thing with feathers.
Very quietly, i heard a voice in my ear.It said, in a weird, cheesy, right-out-of-one-of-my-mother's-novels way, "ah. Wemeet again." i turned my head, just slightly, and right there, practically on top of me, was theguy from the car dealership. He was wearing a red mountain fresh detergent t-shirt - not just fresh: mountain fresh! - it proclaimed, and was smiling at me. "oh,god," i said. "no, it's dexter.