Undertow"I set out one night. When the tide was low. There were signs in the sky. But I did not know. I'd be caught in the grip. Of the undertow. Ditched on a beach. Where the sea hates to go. With a child in my arms. And a chill in my soul. And my heart the shape. Of a begging bowl
Leonard CohenAbout author
- Author's profession: Musician, Writer, Poet
- Nationality: canadian
- Born: September 21, 1934
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The pounding of What do I want went still in her breast. It didn't matter what she chose. The world was what it was, a place with its own rules of hunger and satisfaction. Creatures lived and mated and died, they came and went, as surely as summer did. They would go their own ways, of their own accord.
Barbara Kingsolver