When I looked at you, my life made sense. Even the bad things made sense. They were necessary to make you possible.

The mistakes I've made are dead to me. But I can't take back the things I never did.

Isn't it so weird how the number of dead people is increasing even though the Earth stays the same size, so that one day there isn't going to be room to bury anyone anymore?

It’s hard to say goodbye to the place you’ve lived. It can be as hard as saying goodbye to a person.

Then I have some bad news for you, because humans are going to destroy each other as soon as it becomes easy enough to, which will be very soon.

Just to be a functioning adult in the world, we develop all of these layers of protection. When we see homeless people, we don't cry, even though homeless people probably deserve our tears - you know, it's a horrible thing.

They learned to hate her unknowability, her untouchability, the collage of her.