There are bodies buried everywhere you just have to know where to look.

And the more she could imagine this island, the less she liked the real world. The more she could imagine the people, the less she liked any real people.

A shadow of a reflection of an image of an illusion.

some soap opera, you know, real people pretending to be fake people with made-up problems being watched by real people to forget their real problems.

This isn't about guilt or innocence, he says. The dinosaurs weren't morally good or bad, but they're all dead.

People fall so in love with their pain, they can’t leave it behind. The same as the stories they tell. We trap ourselves.

Jump to the day we'll all be dead and none of this will matter. Jump to the day another house will stand here and the people living there won't know we ever happened.