Poor Petey. I’d like to say I could almost feel a tender spot for poor Petey, but the truth is I’d rather feel at the tender spot on his head and give it a poke.

It's the picnic principle. Things taste better outdoors. And if it's a forbidden thing, so much the better.

It's strange how a person can have a distinct distaste for herself, but still she clutches on to life.

People think me a sort of Florence Nightingale, but I have no heroic qualities. I simply don’t feel very much.

Meaning. If you're going to die, you want to find meaning in life. You want to connect the dots.

A poem doesn’t come out and tell you what it has to say. It circles back on itself, eating its own tail and making you guess what it means.

I am entirely well,” said Eldric, “which has Dr. Rannigan exploring first one theory, then another, trying to understand. But not being a man of science, I don’t care about understanding. I simply want to go outside and break a few windows.