To her, it was like asking a butterfly what it remembered about being a caterpillar. She could fly now and nothing could touch her when she left the cocoon of her body behind at night.

I feel as though I have leapt off this massive cliff and I am still building my wings… Everyone just assumes I know how to fly, but I am pretty sure I am only falling gracefully and hoping to miss the ground.

Just when the caterpillar thought “I am incapable of moving,” it became a butterfly.

You catch a lot more flies with honey than vinegar, as they say, though I warrant you get even more flies with corpses. Flies aren’t too picky, when you come to it.

And I wonder if the caterpillar at the threshold of death ever knew that she would get metamorphosed into a butterfly that she could fly.

Children are caterpillars and adults are butterflies. No butterfly ever remembers what it felt like being a caterpillar.