Nothing was solved when the fight was over, but nothing mattered.

We went sailing one time, and he wore a Speedo, and any smart woman should know that means bisexual at least.

"This isn’t really death," Tyler says, "We’ll be legend. We won’t grow old." I tongue the barrel into my cheek and say, Tyler, you’re thinking of vampires.

Almost all the time, you tell yourself you're loving somebody when you're just using them. This only looks like love.

The unreal is more powerful than the real. Because nothing is as perfect as you can imagine it. Because its only intangible ideas, concepts, beliefs, fantasies that last. Stone crumbles. Wood rots. People, well, they die. But things as fragile as a thought, a dream, a legend, they can go on and on. If you can change the way people think. The way they see themselves. The way they see the world. You can change the way people live their lives. That's the only lasting thing you can create.

We hear the ambient noise of children singing. We hear lions and tigers roar. Hyenas laugh. Some jungle bird or howler monkey declares its existence, screeching a maniac's gibberish. Our entire world, always doing battle against the silence and obscurity of death.

It’s weird to think the place where we’re standing will only be a point in the sky.