And so will the world end, I think, a victim of love rather than hate. For love's ever been the more destructive weapon, sure.

The last good time always comes.

The sun had bled away every smell and left nothing.

But there are weak men who can lift cars if their wives are pinned underneath. The brain, Garraty.' McVries's voice had dropped to a hoarse whisper. 'It isn’t man or God. It’s something...In the brain.

The narrator, a time traveler from 2011, scoffs at the despondency caused by the Cuban Missile Crisis -- especially the drug and alcohol use of a resident of 1962 he supposedly cares about. Then he finds his compassion because he remembers he is the exception in being able to see beyond the immediate -- and foreboding -- horizon.

Her support was a constant, one of the few good things I could take as a given. And whenever I see a first novel dedicated to a wife (or a husband), I smile and think, There’s someone who knows.” Writing is a lonely job. Having someone who believes in you makes a lot of difference. They don’t have to make speeches. Just believing is usually enough.