So we drove on toward death through the cooling twilight.

So we drove on toward death through the cooling twilight.

The thousand times he had proved it meant nothing. Now he was proving it again.

“He no longer dreamed of storms, nor of women, nor of great occurrences, nor of great fish, nor fights, nor contests of strength, nor of his wife.”

Can music save our mortal soul?

Music and laughter Are on the menu And some Time travel

Remembering imagined lives