So then is life more like a run-on sentence that takes in whatever pops up and includes what it likes and excludes what it doesn’t if it can and as it arises and just tries to make the best of things, content with contradictions and confusion like when I’m writing and my wife comes into the room and asks me some irrelevant question that blows it to pieces and anyway the sentence should have stopped a long time ago because everybody knows that a good sentence is a short sentence – just like life – or is it a carefully crafted sentence that absorbs various elements and relates them to each other in a set of right relations, some subordinate, others coordinate, and then expresses a harmonious truth that lifts the spirit of the reader in an orderly series of phrases and clauses, a series of thoughts that flow melliflously, a composition of events that echo a single dream?
