“He was going to hell in the old hand basket, and he decided that maybe he would take someone with him.” — Thomas F. Monteleone Copy Share Image
“overhead the birds are calling, their cries seeming to feel the air. As i watch, they rise.. flinging their bodies against the sky, intent upon the moment, spinning and turning like embers of smoke upon the air. I envy them, this life of theirs.. the way they live so free of themselves, they are without past, without future, an exaltation… — Thomas F. Monteleone Copy Share
“He was going to hell in the old hand basket, and he decided that maybe he would take someone with him.” — Thomas F. Monteleone Copy Share Image
“Sometimes when i am alone out there, or even here in my house, it seems almost possible that i might lose myself: there in… — Thomas F. Monteleone Copy Share Image
