Quotes from Bruce Meyer

and time was empty without you to see it.

When we are stone will the world recall us?

Only a fool would dream of riches when what is rarest are moments

Seasons have built our lives hour by hour in the twilight of long, darkening commutes, and we arrive home too tired to speak of love and this we say only with a goodnight kiss.

The house is eaten by cold. We hear its bones crack in the jaws of sub-zero.

What shall we taste like to the future?

life will sit on the tips of our tongues

The seasons will go on without us and other poets will speak of love

for we have had our say, our words, our time for speaking, our moments of light

what distinguishes pulp fiction from great literature is how emphatically the work challenges us to interpret it.