The officers shook hands, and the sniper gave a millimetric nod, which Reacher returned, equally briefly, which for two alleged snipers was effusive, and for a dogface and a jarhead meeting for the first time was practically like rolling around on the floor in an ecstatic bear hug.

Not just beautiful, though--the stars are like the trees in the forest, alive and breathing. And they're watching me.

We've been speaking English as a second language so long that we've forgotten it as our first.

But after all we are not children, not illiterate juvenile delinquents, not English public school boys who after a night of homosexual romps have to endure the paradox of reading the Ancients in expurgated versions.

Written By Vladimir Nabokov

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