"‘Life was not going fast enough in me, I am speeding it up. The curve was sagging, I am filling it out again. I am a man, I am the master of my body, I am proving it.’
Well wedged up, pillows piled behind the head, feet against the bottom of the bed, well braced. The chest thrust upwards, well exposed. One knows where one’s heart is.
A revolver is solid, it is made of steel. It is an object. To come up against an object at last."