That's what Zombieland is: frozen, calm, quiet.

The hours here are flat and round, disks of gray layered one on top of the other...they move slowly, at a grind, until it seems as though they are not moving at all. They are just pressing down.

We're killers, all of us: We kill our lives, our past selves, the things that mattered. We bury them under slogans and excuses.

It is a beautiful world for the people who get to play the fist.

Why couldn't you let me have it? Why did you have to take it? Why did you always take everything?

I hate skin; I hate bones and bodies. I want to curl up inside of him and be carried there forever.

People need other people to feel things for them," she said. "It gets lonely to feel things all by yourself.