The lights of Knoxville quaked in a faint penumbra to the west as must the ruins of many an older city seen by herders in the hills, by barbaric tribesmen shuffling along the roads.

“He rocked in the swells, floating like the first germ of life adrift on the ear…”

“It's a mystery. A man's at odds to know his mind cause his mind is aught he has…”

“Qual es lo peor: Que soy pobre o que soy americano?”

“There ain’t no law in Mexico. It’s just a pack of rogues.”