the ridges of the fallow field lay trauerse

Snow filled her mouth. She caromed off things she never saw, tumbling through a cluttered canyon like a steel marble falling through pins in a pachinko machine.

Business always falls off in the winter.

if we caught the mystery of life and knew the origin of things , should we not have the same feeling of satiety from the accustomedness of knowledge as we have now from the accustomedness of emotion ?