Even death has a heart.

I want words at my funeral. But I guess that means you need life in your life.

She was still clutching the book. She was holding desperately on to the words who had saved her life.

Personally, I like a chocolate-covered sky. Dark, dark chocolate. People say it suits me. I do, however, try to enjoy every color I see - the whole spectrum. A billion or so flavors, none of them quite the same, and a sky to slowly suck on. It takes the edge off the stress. It helps me relax.

A halo surrounded the grim reaper nun, Sister Maria. (By the way-I like this human idea of the grim reaper. I like the scythe. It amuses me.)

It kills me sometimes, how people die.

A small but noteworthy note. I've seen so many young men over the years who think they're running at other young men. They are not. They are running at me.

His soul sat up. It met me. Those kinds of souls always do - the best ones. The ones who rise up and say "I know who you are and I am ready. Not that I want to go, of course, but I will come." Those souls are always light because more of them have been put out. More of them have already found their way to other places.

Together, they would watch everything that was so carefully planned collapse, and they would smile at the beauty of destruction.