Love is the pursuit of shadows.
You're dead, Cordelia.' No I'm not. 'Yes you are. You're dead. Lie down.
But who can remember pain, once it’s over? All that remains of it is a shadow, not in the mind even, in the flesh. Pain marks you, but too deep to see. Out of sight, out of mind.
The myth that everyone once read great literature is just a myth.
Some of our earliest writing, in cuneiform, was about who owes what.
I learned to read very early so I could read the comics, which I then started to draw.