It is what we see when we imagine what the afterlife must be like: our happiest triumphs, our most sincere moments, stolen from the seam of our lives, a respite just before the onset of imminent tragedy.

And it's exactly what's wrong with the radio. It's like...anything that tries to appeal to everybody always ends up sounding so cheap.

What I've learned is that there is nothing in this life that does not fail to disappoint us, even our own deaths.

It is the strain of walking around the world-down the street, riding city buses and elevators, moving from place to place to place-and not knowing who might want to destroy you, who might like to fill your heart with poison, who might rob you and stab you, who might stand above you in the dark with a tarantula.

Our worlds are so momentary. We are along all our lives and then go off that way as well.

The longer human beings exist, it seems, the less likely we are to choose to be brave.

When she cries, it is quiet, tearless, almost completely imperceptible: one more unheard prayer.