He Laughed, Tried To Make It Into

[harry] Had Always Suffered From A Vague Restlessness, A Longing For Adventure That She Told Herself Severely Was The Result Of Reading Too Many Novels When She Was A Small Child.

He Laughed, Tried To Make It Into A Cough, Inhaled At Exactly The Wrong Moment, And Then Really Did Cough.

She Poured The Water, Arranged Some Bread Near Enough The Embers To Scorch But Not Catch Fire, And Looked Up At Little John. She Was So Accustomed To His Step, To His Bulk, That It Took A Moment To Notice His Face; And When She Did . . . It Was, She Thought, Rather Like The Moment It Took To Realize One Had Cut One's Finger As One Stared Dumbly At The First Drop Of Blood On The Knife-blade. You Know It Is Going To Hurt Quite A Lot In A Minute.

Never Assume. Never Make Plans. Keep Doing The Press-ups And Deep Knee Bends: You'll Need All Your Strength And Flexibility When Your Life Suddenly Implodes. Maybe It Won't — Some People Do Lead Enchanted Lives — But Odds Are That It Will. Some Time.

I Didn’t Want To Know That The Monster That Lived Under Your Bed When You Were A Kid Not Only Really Is There But Used To Have A Few Beers With Your Dad.