Any man who outgrows the myths of childhood is ninety-nine per cent aware and convinced of his own mortality. But then comes the chilly breath on the nape of the neck, a stirring of the air by the wings of the bleak angel. When a man becomes one hundred per cent certain of his inevitable death he gets 'The Look'.
Dress Her in Indigo
John D. MacDonald
1969
No comments:
Post a Comment