The seeds of death get lost in the mess that God made us.

I think it is important to remind people of the extent of our free will.

But in the end it wasn't up to me. The bigs things never are. Birth, I mean, and death. And love. And what love bequeaths to us before we're born.

We knew that Cecilia had killed herself because she was a misfit, because the beyond called to her, and we knew that her sisters, once abandoned, felt her calling from that place, too.

He had the feeling that there was something physically behind his eyes, blocking the light.

Winter is the season of alcoholism and despair.

-Who are you, anyway? -Just someone who knows, from personal experience, how attractive it can be to think you can save somebody else by loving them.