Run, we think, as buildings crumble. Run, as people perish.

It turned out that some crooked things looked even worse when straightened. Some tangled knots only made sense once unraveled.

I am about to die. It is September 11, and every cell in my body is acutely aware of my looming demise. The certainty of it. The inevitability. Not years from now, not weeks nor days. Moments.

"What we control," Juliette said, "is our actions once fate puts us there."

We devolve into animals when we creep near to death.

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It’s easy to forgo distractions and to not accumulate things when you have a larger goal on the horizon.