“it's the proper morning to fly into Hell.”
“It's difficult to see the glass ceiling because it's made of glass. Virtually invisible. What we need is for more birds to fly above it and shit all over it, so we can see it properly.”
“Why did people call it Hell?" I wondered. [...] No place was Hell, no place could be Hell. It's the people calling it Hell, that's the only thing that made it so. People just sticking names on places, so that no one could see those places properly anymore. [...]No, Hell wasn't anything to do with place, Hell was all to do with people. Maybe Hell was people.”
“At the first gesture of morning, flies began stirring.”
“Hell-on-skis, can you hear me? This is flying cupcake.”
“Sadness flies on the wings of the morning, and out of the heart of darkness comes the light.”