Posted by Dave Bonta on August 24, 2009 (last modified at 9:45 pm, 8/24/09)

mole
I cradle my death in both hands, lay myself out in my roomy coffin. Glad did I live and gladly die. I feel, as Stevenson did, that to hold your death at arms-length, and spend much time fending it off, is to hold your life at arms-length. It is, sure, an irritating interruption. But to see the sea again, the thrash of the waves on black basalt!
—-

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