Here is the text of the Raymond Carver thing:

"I look up and see them starting down the beach.

The young man is wearing a packboard to carry the baby.

This leaves his hands free so that he can take one of his wife's hands in his, and swing his other.

Anyone can see how happy they are.

And intimate.

How steady.

They are happier than anyone else, and they know it. Are gladdened by it, and humbled.

They walk to the end of the beach and out of sight.

That's it, I think, and return to this thing governing my life.

But in a few minutes they come walking back along the beach.

The only thing different is that they've changed sides.

He is on the other side of her now, the ocean side.

She is on this side.

But they are still holding hands.

Even more in love, if that's possible.

And it is.

Having been there for a long time myself.

Theirs has been a modest walk, fifteen minutes down the beach, fifteen minutes back.

They've had to pick their way over some rocks and around huge logs, tossed up from where the sea ran wild.

They walk quietly, slowly, holding hands.

They know the water is out there but they're so happy that they ignore it.

The love in their young faces.

The surround of it.

Maybe it will last forever

If they are lucky, and good, and forebearing. And careful.

If they go on loving each other without stint.

Are true to each other - that most of all."