…the only thing a man like that believes in is his destiny. He doesn’t believe in a fate. He doesn’t even accept one.
“Remembering little things the way you can’t not remember some larger ones — now that’s confusing, the way I put it. Animal smell of the sun on the earth at the exposed root of an outstanding sweet white oak that now belonged to us; or on the other hand my mother and father’s parallel love of life, I suppose.”
Joseph McElroy | “Character”