There is no ideal world for you to wait around for. The world is always just what it is now, and it's up to you how you respond to it.

The shadows of the room pool in the lines of our faces, draining our eyes of hue. "There's nothing left worth saying.

Of course, if I eat all of him, if I spare his brain, he'll rise up and follow me back to the airport, and that might make feel better. I'll introduce him to everyone, and maybe we'll stand around and groan for a while. It's hard to say what 'friends' are any more, but that might be close.

I am Dead, but it's not so bad. I've learned to live with it.

I don't want to hear music, I don't want the sunrise to be pink. The world is a liar. Its ugliness is overwhelming; the scraps of beauty make it worse.

Warm Bodies ended up becoming one of the most personal relatable things I've written.

I think we crushed ourselves down over the centuries. Buried ourselves under greed and hate and whatever other sins we could find until our souls finally hit the rock bottom of the universe. And then they scraped a hole through it, into some ... darker place.