I can't bear living in this huge beautiful world and not try to imitate it as best I can.
History admits no rules; only outcomes.
Books don't offer real escape, but they can stop a mind scratching itself raw.
People are obscenities. Would rather be music than be a mass of tubes squeezing semisolids around itself for a few decades before becoming so dribblesome it'll no longer function.
The soul is a verb." He impales a lit candle on a spike. "Not a noun.
Faith, the least exclusive club on Earth, has the craftiest doorman. Every time I've stepped through its wide-open doorway, I find myself stepping out on the street again.