But in a story, which is a kind of dreaming, the dead sometimes smile and sit up and return to the world.
...you find yourself studying the fine colors on the river, you feel wonder and awe at the setting of the sun, and you are filled with a hard, aching love for how the world could be and always should be, but now is not.
Why do our politicians put warnings on cigarette packs and not on their own foreheads?
Imagination is a killer.
Once you're alive, you can't ever be dead.
I'm not dead. But when I am, it's likeI don't know, I guess it's like being inside a book that nobody's reading.