There are moments when you can only stand and stare, watching the world forget you as you remove yourself from it - when you overcome it and cease to exist as the person you were.

I thought what if death is more like thinking, well, war is like the boss at your shoulder, constantly wanting more, wanting more, wanting more, and then that gave me the idea that Death is weary, he's fatigued, and he's haunted by what he sees humans do to each other because he's on hand for all of our great miseries.

I want to talk to him. I want to ask him about that girl and if he loved her and still misses her.

When death captures me,' the boy vowed, 'he will feel my fist on his face.' Personally, I quite like that. Such stupid gallantry. Yes. I like that a lot.

He's most likely robbing the bank as a paycheck on the world for winning the ugliness prize at his local fete three years running.

Somewhere in all the snow, she could see her broken heart, in two pieces.

Believe it or not--it takes a lot of love to hate you like this.