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           Thesewereritualsthatwererightandlasting;thelightingofpipes,thepalehandsthatmovedknittingneedlesinthedimness,theeatingoffoil-wrapped,chilledEskimoPies,thecomingandgoingofallthepeople.Foratsometimeorotherduringtheevening,everyonevisitedhere;theneighborsdowntheway,thepeopleacrossthestreet;MissFernandMissRobertahummingbyintheirelectricrunabout,givingTomorDouglasaridearoundtheblockandthencominguptositdownandfanawaythefeverintheircheeks;orMr.Jonas,thejunkman,havinglefthishorseandwagonhiddeninthealley,andripet,burstingwithwords,wouldcomeupthestepslookingasfreshasifhistalkhadneverbeensaidbefore,andsomehowitneverhad.Andlastofall,thechildren,whohadbeenoffsquintingtheirwaythroughalasthide-and-seekorkick-the-can,panting,glowing,wouldsicklequietlybacklikeboomerangsalongthesoundlesslawn,tosinkbeneaththetalkingtalkingtalkingoftheporchvoiceswhichwouldweighandgentlethemdown...

           Oh,theluxuryoflyinginthefernnightandthegrassnightandthenightofsusurrant,slumbrousvoicesweavingthedarktogether.Thegrownupshadforgottenhewasthere,sostill,soquietDouglaslay,notingtheplanstheyweremakingforhisandtheirownfutures.Andthevoiceschanted,drifted,inmoonlitcloudsofcigarettesmokewhilethemoths,likelateappleblossomscomealive,tappedfaintlyaboutthefarstreetlights,andthevoicesmovedonintothecomingyears...

           InfrontoftheUnitedCigarStorethiseveningthemenweregatheredtoburndirigibles,sinkbattleships,blowupdynamiteworksand,allinall,savortheverybacteriaintheirporcelainmouthsthatwouldsomedaystopthemcold.