Your dad didn't die, so I won't be able to explain it to you.

It is unrealistic to think you can have an inflexible identity that never has to give or take or make compromises.

The only way to overcome sadness is to consume it.

The bruises go away, and so does how you hate, and so does the feeling that everything you receive from life is something you have earned.

Just because you're an atheist, that doesn't mean you wouldn't love for things to have reasons for why they are.

Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living.

Why is taste, the crudest of our senses, exempted from the ethical rules that govern our other senses?