“To the outside world, of course, this job is a cinch: 9 to 3, five days a week, two months' summer vacation with pay, all legal holidays, prestige and respect. My mother, for example, has the pleasant notion that my day consists of nodding graciously to the rustle of starched curtsies and a chorus of respectful voices bidding me good morning.”
“Death conditioning begins at eighteen months. Every tot spends two mornings a week in a month in a Hospital for the Dying. All the best toys are kept there, and they get chocolate cream on death days. They learn to take dying as a matter of course.”
“3 years, 1 month, 1 week, and 6 days since I'd seen daylight.”
“Good morning all....hope everyone has a great day...this rain sound so sweet...last day of work for 2 weeks...sooooo happy...”
“Five days a week, she came into my room at four in the morning, force-fed me breakfast, and proceeded to teach me my English lessons for three hours before I left for school and she went to work.”
“It crossed my mind that my letters are all about me and not you. I would hope that you pay me the same respect.”