Ecstasy hates company.

Everybody falls, and we all land somewhere.

Along with a dozen other students I had dissected a human cadaver and sorted its contents by size, color, function, and weight. There was nothing pleasant about the experience. Its only consolation was its truth and its only virtue was its utility.

I don't believe money is evil, but it can be terribly corrosive.

It was the kind of experience, Molly said, that would grow calluses on an angel's ass.

Ecstasy hates company.

There are so many kinds of time. The time by which we measure our lives. Months and years. Or the big time, the time that raises mountains and makes stars. Or all the things that happen between one heartbeat and the next. Its hard to live in all those kinds of times. Easy to forget that you live in all of them.