His soul sat up. It met me. Those kinds of souls always do - the best ones. The ones who rise up and say "I know who you are and I am ready. Not that I want to go, of course, but I will come." Those souls are always light because more of them have been put out. More of them have already found their way to other places.

They'd been standing like that for thirty seconds of forever.

The human child – so much cannier at times than the stupefyingly ponderous adult.

And they would all smile at the beauty of destruction.

Somewhere, far down, there was an itch in his heart, but he made it a point not to scratch it. He was afraid of what might come leaking out.

The dilemma, of course, is that such people save their most important words for after, when the surrounding humans are unlucky enough to find them.

She wanted none of those days to end, and it was always with disappointment that she watched the darkness stride forward.