Are you a vegetarian?' I ask, based on the evidence in front of me. She nods. 'Why?' 'Because I have this theory that when we die, every animal that we've eaten has a chance at eating us back. So if you're a carnivore and you add up all the animals you've eaten--well, that's a long time in purgatory, being chewed.' 'Really?' She laughs. 'No. I'm just sick of the question. I mean, I'm a vegetarian because I think it's wrong to eat other sentient creatures. And it sucks for the environment.

They never played games with each other, they never had tow worry where they stood, because if either of them had a moment of wavering, the other would say I love you and would mean it and all doubts were forgiven because in this one case it was found that love conquers all.

This is the hard part about having best friends that I feel no attachment to -- I don't give them any benefit of the doubt. And being best friends is always about the benefit of the doubt.

I am learning that a life isn't real unless someone else knows its reality. And I want my life to be real.

Game over," you say, and I don't know which I take more exception to-- the fact that you say its over, or the fact that you say it's a game.

Maybe there is hope in the fragments, that what is lost can always be filled in by someone who knows.

His books are kept on freestanding shelves hung at different angles on a sea-green wall. They defy gravity, as good books should.