Right. I'd forgotten about her.' He shook his head. 'That keeps happening.

He just waited until I stopped talking and said, 'Jesus, kid, you're almost a detective. All you need now is a gun, a gut, and three ex-wives. So what's your theory?

At least I carpe'd that one diem.

I opened the door. He looked down at my shirt and smiled. "Funny," he said. "Don't call my boobs funny," I answered.

Last words are always harder to remember when no one knows that someone's about to die.

When it works, anticipation is far more fulfilling than surprise, because we are reminded that a sunrise is precisely as magnificent as it is inevitable.

Depression is a side effect of dying. (Almost everything is, really).