Suddenly summoned to witness something great and horrendous, we keep fighting not to reduce it to our own smallness.

Don't you see, if when we die there's nothing, all your sun and fields and what not are all, ah, horror? It's just an ocean of horror.

People go around mourning the death of God; it's the death of sssin that bothers me. Without ssin, people aren't people any more, they're just ssoul-less sheep.

Figure out where you're going before you go there: he was told that a long time ago.

How sad, how strange, we make companions out of air and hurt them, so they will defy us, completing creation.

We are most alive when we're in love.

All men are mortal, and therefore all men are losers; our profoundest loyalty goes out to the failed.