Life as the chosen religious figure for a colony of cryptid mice can be a lot of things, but it's definitely never boring.

I guess in the end, it doesn’t matter what we wanted. What matters is what we chose to do with the things we had.

Things it is not polite to discuss at the dinner table: politics, religion, and the walking dead.

He had the same empty confusion in his eyes that I saw in my mirror every morning, that odd sort of denial that only seems to come when the world decides to jump the rails without warning you first.

You'd challenge me and lose. You know it, I know it, but you'd still do it. Sometimes your sense of honor confuses the hell out of me.

We have to burn brightly. We can’t burn forever

I feel the closest to crazy when I'm disagreeing with the voice in my head