“It would take many reflective hours and long walks and deep readings to come to terms with what had been given to me on that night. That there is no one moment. That my dream of the three white lice had foretold what would happen. Ford's death was already approaching as we lay in our beds the night before the accident, other worlds advancing towards ours, their coming together so deeply rooted in the past that there was no beginning. From before his conception Fordie had been moving towards his death--forgive him that moment of standing behind that truck; forgive that young fellow behind the wheel whose life had brought him to that moment of distraction; forgive the collision of their worlds in that moment that continues living through the lives of others. Forgive.

Forgive me my smallness of mind in believing I could have or might have or should have changed the course of a moment that had been careening towards us for thousands of years and forgive God for shaping us all within the confines of the one transcendent moment that stretches through to eternity.”