Knowing who you are is good for one generation only. You haven’t the foggiest idea where you stand now or who you are.

She continued to stare straight ahead but the entire scene in front of her had changed—the tree line was a dark wound in a world that was nothing but the sky—and she had the look of a person whose sight has been suddenly restored but who finds the light unbearable.

The old man looked up into his own image. It was triumphant and hostile. ‘You been whipped,’ it said, ‘ by me,’ and then it added, bearing down on each word, ‘and I’m PURE Pitts.’”“A View of the Woods”“Asbury blanched and the last film of illusion was torn as if by a whirlwind from his eyes. He saw that for the rest of his days, frail, racked, but enduring, he would live...