How do you rid the Earth of humans? Rid the humans of their humanity.

The doctor frowned upon drinking and often expressed wonderment at men who willingly made imbeciles of themselves.

We are the hunters---and we are also the bait.

You never know when the truth will come home. You can't choose the time. The time chooses you.

Afterward I told his widow, "Your husband is dead, but at least he died laughing.' I think she took some comfort in that. It is the second-best way to die, Will Henry." He did not say what the best way was.

Could there be irony crueler than this? How, upon his rescue, the truth had brought him here, to a house for the mad, for only a madman believes what every child knows to be true: There are monsters that lie in wait under our beds.

I do not mean to mock or ridicule your life's work, for in one way at least it mimics my own: We have dedicated our lives to the pursuit of phantoms. The difference is the nature of those phantoms. Mine exist between other men's ears; yours live solely between your own.