Motivul pentru care moartea se ţine atât de aproape de viaţă nu e necesitatea biologică - e invidia. Viaţa este atât de frumoasă, încât moartea s-a îndrăgostit de ea, o dragoste geloasă, posesivă, care apucă tot ce poate.

Dare I say I miss him? I do. I miss him. I still see him in my dreams. They are nightmares mostly, but nightmares tinged with love.

I still cannot understand how he could abandon me so unceremoniously, without any sort of goodbye, without looking back even once. That pain is like an axe that chops at my heart.

Life will defend itself no matter how small it is.

I blinked deliberately, expecting my eyelids to act like lumberjacks. But the trees would not fall.

The reason death sticks so closely to life isn't biological necessity; it's envy. Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous, possessive love that grabs at what it can.

It was a huge zoo, spread over numberless acres, big enough to require a train to explore it, though it seemed to get smaler as I grew older, train included. Now it's so small it fits in my head.