Thou hast shewed thy people hard things: thou hast made us to drink the wine of astonishment.

I know you are but what am I? Jeannie would say out loud, whenever I mouthed a name at her.

But even having my very own personal pronoun was risky, because it’s pretty tough to keep stopped-hope stopped up when you are getting all youed up, when someone you really like keeps promising you scary, fun, exciting stuff—and even tougher for the of that moment to remain securely devoid of hope, to make smart, self-denying decisions with Dad youing me—the long ooo of it broad and extended, like a hand.

Thomas calls it the last or ultimate end—as it were the endliest end.