“We dreamt of light, but hoped for darkness.”

“There's a psychological mechanism, I've come to believe, that prevents most of us from imagining the moment of our own death. For if it were possible to imagine fully that instant of passing from consciousness to nonexistence, with all the attendant fear and humiliation of absolute helplessness, it would be very hard to live. It would be unbearably obvious that death is inscribed in everything that constitutes life, that any moment of your existence may be only a breath away from being the last. We would be continuously devastated by the magnitude of that inescapable fact. Still, as we mature into our mortality, we begin to gingerly dip our horror-tingling toes into the void, hoping that our mind will somehow ease itself into dying, that God or some other soothing opiate will remain available as we venture into the darkness of non-being.”

“The liar looks up toward it, hoping against hope that the voices in his head have told him the truth. ”

“We are within our life and we stay there for as long as possible, that's our home. We need life. There is too much death already, and there is probably more coming our way.”

“All the lives we could live, all the people we will never know, never will be, they are everywhere. That is what the world is.”

“She was beautiful; my breath was taken; we were still lonely; she said yes.”

“I loved you because there was no other place for me to go. We were married because we did not know what else to do with each other. You never knew me, nothing about me, what died inside me, what lived invisibly.”