We are all our own graveyards, I believe; we squat amongst the tombs of the people we were. If we're healthy, every day is a celebration, a Day of the Dead, in which we give thanks for the lives that we lived, and if we are neurotic we brood and mourn and wish that the past was still present.

What worth was a man who could not be haunted?

Let the mad find wisdom in their madness for the sane, and let the sane be grateful.

Angels have very nasty tempers. Especially when they’re feeling righteous.

His body and his mind went about their different businesses. The former, freed from conscious instruction, breathed, rolled, sweated, and digested. The latter went dreaming.

Journey to the end of day, Come the fire-fly, Come the moon; Say a prayer for God's good grace And sleep with lore upon your face.

Often people who are wonderful with animals aren't always terribly good with human beings.