“Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are," May sang to herself softly. "Like an eyelet in the scrim, letting little blue drops in.”

“Twinkle, twinkle little bat How I wonder what you're at! Up above the world you fly, Like a tea-tray in the sky.”

“We can all look up and say,. okay, there's the South Star,. there's the Big Dogpile, there's the Little Dipshit. Twinkle, twinkle.”

“The Subject has really blue eyes that twinkle when he looks at someone like she's maybe a little bit insane.”

“Twinkle Twinkle little star.You are nothing.You've been dead for a thousand years.”

“Imagine something. Something that fits in the dark. Say the dark is the sky at night. Imagine something in it.”“A star?”“Yes.”“I can’t. I can’t see it.”“Okay. Don’t try to see it. Try to be it. Would you like to know what it’s like to be one? Be a star?”“A movie star?”“No, a star star. In the sky. Keep your eyes closed, think about what it feels like to be one.” He moved over to her and kissed her shoulder. “Imagine yourself in that dark, all alone in the sky at night. Nobody is around you. You are by yourself, just shining there. You know how a star is supposed to twinkle? We say twinkle because that is how it looks, but when a star feels itself, it’s not a twinkle, it’s more like a throb. Star throbs. Over and over and over. Like this. Stars just throb and throb and throb and sometimes, when they can’t throb anymore, when they can’t hold it anymore, they fall out of the sky.”