There is something about libraries, old libraries, that makes them seem almost sacred. There's a smell of paper and must and binding stuff. It's like all the books are fighting against decay, against turning into dust, and at the same time fighting for attention.

What I have learned lately is that people deal with death in all sorts of ways. Some of us fight against it, doing everything we can to make it not true. Some of us lose our selves to grief. Some of us lose ourselves to anger.

We all have to feel empty sometimes.

Friends help friends fight pixies.

He has an armload of irises and daisies and tulips and he presents them to me. I didn't know what kind of flowers you like.I like them all.Yeah?Yeah.He tries to hand them to me, but then remembers the cast. I'll put them in water.Betty swoops in the room ridiculously fast and she grabs the flowers out of Nick's hands. I'll take care of them. You lovebirds just sit on the couch and think swooning things at each other.

Loving you is a full-time job. It's a great job, don't get me wrong. It's the best job in the universe. But it's not easy.

It's a lot easier to understand things once you name them. It's the unknown that mostly freaks me out. I don't know the name of that fear, but I know I've got it, the fear of the unknown.