"He had gone aboard the ship early, thinking of it, he now knew, as a refuge from the city where he had feared meeting people who would speak to him about what had happened. He thought that on the ship he could come to some terms with his sorrow, not knowing, yet, that there are no terms to be made with sorrow. It can be cured by death and it can be blunted or anesthetized by various things. Time is supposed to cure it, too. But if it is cured by anything less than death, the chances are that it was not true sorrow.

"One of the things that blunts it temporarily through blunting everything else is drinking and another thing that can keep the mind away from it is work."

Choppy, but good. I wish I could do that. I wish I could do anything.