My sister will die over and over again for the rest of my life. Grief is forever. It doesn't go away; it becomes a part of you, step for step, breath for breath. I will never stop grieving Bailey because I will never stop loving her. That's just how it is. Grief and love are conjoined, you don't get one without the other. All I can do is love her, and love the world, emulate her by living with daring and spirit and joy.

The guy's life drunk, I think, makes Candide look like a sourpuss. Does he even know that death exists?

I wonder why bereaved people even bother with mourning clothes when the grief itself provides such an unmistakable wardrobe.

My grandmother thinks it's really funny to put all sorts of things in our - my lunch. I never know what'll be inside: e.e. cummings, flower petals, a handful of buttons. She seems to have lost sight of the original purpose of the brown bag." - Lennie "Or maybe she thinks other forms of nourishment are more important." - Joe

If bad luck knows who you are, become someone else.

I always imagined music trapped inside my clarinet, not trapped inside of me. But what if music is what escapes when a heart breaks?

What kind of world is this? And what do you do about it? What do you do when the worst thing that can happen actually happens?