(What are your ghosts like?) (They are on the insides of the lids of my eyes.) (This is also where my ghosts reside.) (You have ghosts?) (Of course I have ghosts.) (But you are a child.) (I am not a child.) (But you have not known love.) (These are my ghosts, the spaces amid love.)

She wanted nothing more than someone to miss, to touch, with whom to speak like a child, with whom to be a child.

Years were passing through the spaces between moments.

Succotash my cocker spaniel, you fudging crevasse-hole dipshiitake!

She said, "Do you have more things that you need, or more that you don't need?" I said, "It depends on what it means to need.

I felt, that night, on that stage, under that skull, incredibly close to everything in the universe, but also extremely alone. I wondered, for the first time in my life, if life was worth all the work it took to live. What exactly made it worth it? What's so horrible about being dead forever, and not feeling anything, and not even dreaming? What's so great about feeling and dreaming?

One hundred years of joy can be erased in one second