I can promise you that the world is a factory. The sun stirs it, the humans rule it. And I remain. I carry them away.- spoken by death

Imagine smiling after a slap in the face. Then think of doing it twenty-four hours a day.

Sometimes you read a book so special that you want to carry it around with you for months after you've finished just to stay near it.

One wild card was yet to be played.

It amazes me what humans can do, even when streams are flowing down their faces and they stagger on, coughing and searching, and finding.

The days and nights come apart. I feel them corroding at the seams.

It's about glowing lights and small things that are big.