I believe death is only a door. One closes, and another opens. If I were to imagine heaven, I would imagine a door opening. And he would be waiting for me there.
Whoever dies with the most stuff wins.
Birdsong foamed in the hour-before-dawn garden.
...now I'm a spent firework; but at least I've been a firework.
Books don't offer real escape, but they can stop a mind scratching itself raw.
Lying's wrong, but when the world spins backwards, a small wrong may be a big right.