Are you an aberration to your species?' she cried. 'Cats don't look for approval!

Not everyone is born a witch or a saint. Not everyone is born talented, or crooked, or blessed; some are born definite in no particular at all. We are a fountain of shimmering contradictions, most of us. Beautiful in the concept, if we're lucky, but frequently tedious or regrettable as we flesh ourselves out.

The further on we go, the more meaning there is, but the less articulable. You live your life and the older you get- the more specifically you harvest- the more precious becomes every ounce and spasm. Your life and times don’t drain of meaning because they become more contradictory, ornamented by paradox, inexplicable. The less explicable, the more meaning. The less like a mathematics equation (a sum game); the more like music (significant secret).

I shall pray for your soul,' promised Nessarose. I shall wait for your shoes,' Elphie answered.

Yet who can say how our souls have been stamped by witnessing such a cruel drama? All souls are hostages to their human envelopes, but souls must decay and suffer at such indignity, don't you agree?

Books fall open, you fall in. When you climb out again, you're a bit larger than you used to be.

The body apologizes to the soul for its errors, and the soul asks forgiveness for squatting in the body without invitation.