Who wants to know that the person you love and need the most can just vanish forever

The first thing I notice is the sky, so full of blue and the kind of brilliant white clouds that make you ecstatic to have eyes. Nothing can go wrong under this sky.

Grief is forever. It doesn't go away; it becomes part of you, step for step, breath for breath.

Music: what life, what living itself sounds like.

Life's a freaking mess. In fact, I'm going to tell Sarah we need to start a new philosophical movement: messessentialism instead of existentialism: For those who revel in the essential mess that is life. Because Gram's right, there's not one truth ever, just a bunch of stories, all going on at once, in our heads, in our hearts, all getting in the way of each other. It's all a beautiful calamitous mess. It's like the day Mr. James took us into the woods and cried triumphantly, "That's it! That's it!" to the dizzying cacophony of soloing instruments trying to make music together. That is it.

Let me just unsubscribe to my own mind already, because I don't get any of it.

I could step out of this sad life like it's an old sorry dress.