friendship was always contingent.

Once a month I wake in the night, slippery with terror. I'm afraid, not because there's someone in the room, in the dark, in the bed, but because there isn't. I'm afraid of the emptiness, which lies beside me like a corpse.

The truly fearless think of themselves as normal.

I think of bad news as a huge bird, with the wings of a crow and the face of my Grade Four school teacher, sparse bun, rancid teeth, wrinkly frown, pursed mouth and all, sailing around the world under cover of darkness pleased to be the bearer of ill tidings, carrying a basket of rotten eggs, and knowing- as the sun comes up- exactly where to drop them. On me, for one.

I believe in the resistance as I believe there can be no light without shadow; or rather, no shadow unless there is also light.

Where do the words go when we have said them?

They seemed to be able to choose. We seemed to be able to choose, then. We were a society dying of too much choice.