I hate New Year's Eve. One more chance to remember that you haven't yet done what you wanted. And to pretend it doesn't matter.

Starlight and comet tails burned the tips of endless grass below into hammered silver. Like thousands of tapers in the chapel, just blown out but still glowing. If one could drown in the grass...it might be the best way to die.

Not an ugly color, Nanny thought. Just not a human color.

Immortality is a chancy thing; it cannot be promised or earned. Perhaps it cannot even be identified for what it is.

...No opening sermons concerning children with humps and fins for limbs, who nonetheless, immortal souls all, deserve life, liberty, and the pursuit of Happy Meals.

You confuse not speaking with not listening.

That's all I want- to do no harm.