I hate to break this to you: One of these days I'm going to die. I expect that when I croak I'll no longer be using Twitter, unless I can do it from the grave.

I want everything back, the way it was. But there is no point to it, this wanting.

As all historians know, the past is a great darkness, and filled with echoes.

The reason they invented coffins, to lock the dead in, preserve them, they put makeup on them; they didn't want them spreading or changing into anything else. The stone with the name and date was on them to weight them down.

Nature is to zoos as God is to churches.

After everything that's happened, how can the world still be so beautiful? Because it is.

Time rises and rises, and when it reaches the level of your eyes you drown.