No religion is perfect, not after man gets through with it.

That is the mysterious thing about tragedy- it often strikes at the happiest moment.

‎When you point your finger at someone, anyone, it is often a moment of judgement. We point our fingers when we want to scold someone, point out what they have done wrong. But each time we point, we simultaneously point three fingers back at ourselves.

The late hour is such a friend; it has been for so many years. There is not a soul around as I carry Riley downstairs and dump him in my trunk. It is good, for I am not in the mood to kill again, and murder, for me, is very much tied to my mood, like making love. Even when it is necessary.

The truth is always simpler than you can imagine.

When you were in love, you knew no fear or hatred. When you were fearful, there was no possibility of love or hate. And when there was hate, there was only hate.

How do I explain a life that has lasted for billions of years? It is almost as if I must start with an apology for being alive when everyone I once knew is dead.