why something and not nothing? why music and not noise?

Doesn't our knowledge of death make life more precious?' What good is a preciousness based on fear and anxiety? It's an anxious quivering thing

Maybe when we die, the first thing we'll say is 'I know this feeling. I was here before'.

A mystery novel localizes the awesome force of the real death outside the book, winds it tightly in a plot.

Everything is barely weeks. Everything is days. We have minutes to live.

You have to break through the structure of your own stonework habit just to make yourself listen.

The term itself--my life--is a desperate overstatement.