...a great island of Sargasso weed that heaved and swung in the light sea as though the ocean were making love with something under a yellow blanket...

The thousand times that he had proved it meant nothing. Now he was proving it again. Each time was a new time and he never thought about the past when he was doing it.

He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God.

He looked at her the way all girls wanted to be looked at.

Angry, and half in love with her, and tremendously sorry, I turned away.

I didn't know then what I wanted, but the ache for it was palpable.