And I grew up on a steady diet of science fiction, especially apocalyptic and postapocalyptic fiction.

As long as we remember a person, they're not really gone. Their thoughts, their feelings, their memories, they become a part of us.

A thousand recollected lives were passing through her, a thousand stories - of love and work, of parents and children, of duty and joy and grief. Beds slept in and meals eaten, and the bliss and pain of the body, and a view of summer leaves from a window on a morning it had rained; the nights of loneliness and the nights of love, the soul in it's body keeping always longing to be known.

The world was a world of dreaming souls who could not die.

It was what you did, Wolgast understood; you started to tell a story about who you were, and soon enough the lies were all you had and you became that person.

And indeed, I am a warmhearted and thoroughly domestic man who gets up and makes pancakes for his children and kisses them on the head when he sends them off to their day.

I like creating villains.