Brutus is the tragic hero of that play. It isn’t Caesar, ‘cause he dies
Do you know that feeling that swells up in your chest, and it kind of feels like gas, but it’s an emotional gas
she would do all she could so that her little coterie of sons would be always, always surrounded by fun, forever alive and ceaselessly in motion
the columns were already falling
There were other days, days that came later. Days of tumbling and roaring, rolling and rollicking, bouncing and breathlessness.
Stop thinking your wife is screwing the milkman. / There aren’t any more milkmen