...it’s not just the person who fills a house, it’s their I’ll be back later!s, their toothbrushes and unused hats and coats, their belongingnesses.

Dead things show you what you’ll be too one day.

I pass through many Me's in the course of my day, each one selfish with his time. The Lying-in-Bed me and the Enjoying-the-Hot-Shower Me are particularly selfish. The Late Me loathes the pair of them.

Humans live in a pit of cheating, exploiting, hurting, incarcerating. Every time, the species wastes some part of what it could be. This waste is poisonous.

Beyond the Indian hamlet, upon a forlorn strand, I happened on a trail of recent footprints.

Whoever dies with the most stuff wins.

A half-read book is a half-finished love affair.