Later, he wondered if he could have changed things, if that gesture would have done any good, if it could have averted any of the harm that was to come. He told himself it wouldn’t. He knew it wouldn’t. But still, afterward, he wished that, just for a moment on that slow flight home, he had touched Wednesday’s hand.

Neil Gaiman (b. 1960) British fabulist
American Gods, ch. 10 (2001)
Added on 8-Sep-07 | Last updated 15-Dec-09
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