"Paper knew…the paper‘s white sheets, the empty paper knew the gray of the transitions in the morning, in the evening, and knew of the madness in the twilight, downfalls in the dusk, and burned paper knew extinguished writing: but No One‘s knowledge lay like slime beneath the earth‘s crusts. Or it lay as bones in the hollowed earth; No One‘s knowledge clattered in wooden monotony against the earth‘s cranium."
"In the underbrush by the shore the shadows lay like molten lead as evening came and the hour of transition began to divest all things of their reality."
"The old factory‘s fragment of wall looked like the clawing hand of a giant thrust from the earth, perhaps in a mad attempt to play with the moon‘s red balloon…"
"It was a result of my entry into the adult world: only obfuscating participles could conceal the frailty of the nouns; life‘s dilettantes, seizing power over their enclaves in a last-minute panic, required shabby clothes to cover their decay."
"Wasn‘t the use of substantive nouns nearly always a silence about the true substances of things—and wasn‘t that silence so essential to us that it became the basic material of our thinking? What were we really passing over: over silenced things, over vanished things, over the basic substance of ourselves, over the silence in our thoughts? Passing silently over our silence…?"
Old Rendering Plant | 
