More and more I feel like a letter—deposited here, collected there. But a letter addressed to no one.

Some bioengineering is good, especially if it results in plants that are more drought-resistant or perennial food crops.

There are some women who seem to be born without fear, just as there are people who are born without the ability to feel pain ... Providence appears to protect such women, maybe out of astonishment.

Water does not resist. Water flows. When you plunge your hand into it, all you feel is a caress.

I’m not used to girls, or familiar with their customs. I feel awkward around them, I don’t know what to say. I know the unspoken rules of boys, but with girls I sense that I am always on the verge of some unforeseen, calamitous blunder.

Thy only authentic ending is the one provided here: John and Mary die, John and Mary die, John and Mary die.

I could end this with a moral, as if this were a fable about animals, though no fables are really about animals.