All things that are, are ours. But we must care. For if we do not care, we do not exist. If we do not exist, then there is nothing but blind oblivion. And even oblivion must end someday. Lord, will you grant me just a little time? For the proper balance of things. To return what was given. For the sake of prisoners and the flight of birds. Death took a step backwards. It was impossible to read expression in azrael's features. Death glanced sideways at the servants. Lord, what can the harvest hope for, if not for the care of the reaper man?

A bad hunter chases. A good hunter waits.

What's a philosopher?' said Brutha. Someone who's bright enough to find a job with no heavy lifting,' said a voice in his head.

Shoes, men, coffins; never accept the first one you see.

I could be wrong. Not being certain is what being a philosopher is all about.

This wasn't food - it was what food became if it had been good and gone to food heaven.

All holy piety in public, and all peeled grapes and self-indulgence in private.