On a long enough time line, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero.

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.

Everything is still falling apart.

If you love something set it free, but don't be surprised if it comes back with herpes.

There will always be an underground.

When someone walks in and you say "a six-foot-tall man," you miss the opportunity to describe what a six-foot-tall man would look like to your narrator, because how the narrator describes a six-foot-tall man says more about the narrator than about the man.

When you reach the end of your life - trust me, you won't look back and savor the moments you spent alone.