My parents always liked it when I cursed in front of them. I could see the pleasure of it in their faces. It signified that I trusted them, that I was myself in front of them.

What a treacherous thing to believe that a person is more than a person.

The nature of the love between a parent and child really is literally stronger than death. As long as either person in that relationship is alive, that relationship is still alive.

A desert blessing, an ocean curse.

Stupid human voices always ruining everything.

That deep, can-still-taste-her-in-my-mouth sleep.

That's always seemed so ridiculous to me, that people want to be around someone because they're pretty. It's like picking your breakfeast cereals based on color instead of taste.