For these beings, fall is ever the normal season, the only weather, there be no choice beyond. Where do they come from? The dust. Where do they go? The grave. Does blood stir their veins? No: the night wind. What ticks in their head? The worm. What speaks from their mouth? The toad. What sees from their eye? The snake. What hears with their ear? The abyss between the stars. They sift the human storm for souls, eat flesh of reason, fill tombs with sinners. They frenzy forth. Such are the autumn people.

Don't they get afraid, then?" "They have a religion for that.

If you're reluctant to weep, you won't live a full and complete life.

We're going to become the martians when we land there. When we explore and build communities, we become the martians. That's a wonderful destiny for all of us.

Long before you knew what death was you were wishing it on someone else.

You're either in love with what you do, or you're not in love.

I don't know anything anymore