There can be great joy before the night.

Not only are we dust in the wind, we’re dirt on the floor. We break down and join something else: whether we’re cremated or inhumed, eventually we all join the same thing. Something bigger than us. This is where we go, and where we came from.

It’s hard to see suicide as anything but ugly when you’re given a front row seat to it.

It wouldn’t be so bad, to actually be living; it would be pretty nice.

Closure: Now there’s a silly idea. Nothing ever gets closure, the only real closure is death. Maybe it’s not a good idea to stare a dying bird in the eye. It might reflect something back at you that you don’t want to see.

When you break the news of death, you become Death, and there’s always a sickle somewhere.

Life and death, alpha and omega. Nothing without the other, both beautiful.

In death, there should be no more surfing. No skimming the superficial

We will not leave without a fight! We will burst, first! You will see us! Hear us! Burning trees, burning bushes. We speak God’s words!