Kind of like a pear, he had thought, with a point on one end and a fat little body; a flying pear.
He realized that he was not always right, was, indeed, often not right, and at the same time he found that others were not always wrong.
Just as bad things could snowball, Brian found that good things could come fast as well.
In measured time forty-seven days had passed since the crash. Forty-two days, he thought, since he had died and been born as the new Brian.
We each live in our own time... And we must do the best we can with our time. Those who came before weren’t as lucky as us and we aren’t as lucky as some who may come later. We must still live in our own time and do the best we can.
All of flying is easy. Just takes learning. Like everything else. Like everything else.
He was what he was, and if he was wrong or had mental problems, that was still the way he was, the way he had to live.
You eat the gut berries, you throw up. Don’t eat the gut berries.
But it was a mental thing. He had gotten depressed thinking about how they hadn’t found him yet, and when he was busy and had something to do the depression seemed to leave.
They say nature abhors a vacuum, but it doesn’t like two take-charge personalities in the same vicinity either.
So now I don’t feel normal unless I’ve got a book in my hands, and I feel the most normal when I’m lost in a story and can ignore the complicated situations around me that never seem to work out as neatly as they do in books.
I got stuck in a toilet.
He had done food.
I have a friend, he thought – I have a friend now. A hungry friend, but a good one. I have a friend named fire.
Fifty-four days,” Brian said. “Not quite two months. Yes – that’s me.
We used to have songs for everything, and nobody knows the songs anymore. There were songs for dogs, for good dogs and bad dogs, and songs to make them work or track bear. There were songs for all of everything.
I am not supposed to see this God. No person is supposed to see this. How can You let this happen?
Hello to you too, he peed. Then he got into the canoe and slid off.
Dad still believes that everything will always work out. I believe that nothing ever happens like you think it will. But both of us know that real life is always a million times better than anything you can imagine.
There were so many variables, so many ways to go wrong.
He moved around, did his toilet – drawing a picture in the snow when he did – and was amazed how well the boots worked, kept his feet warm and comfortable.