“How do you tell if something's alive? You check for breathing.”

“I love how you still think if you tell me to do something, I'll just check my brain at the door and do it.”

“Funny how someone telling you not to do something can talk you into it.”

“When they ask how you’re feeling, you tell them you’re feeling like something important died screaming. You tell them you’re feeling like something even more important arrived breathing, something you should probably try feeding. When they ask how you’re living, you tell them you’re living like something important died hissing. You tell them you’re living like something even more important arrived giving, something you should probably try willing.”

“If your heart tells you something but your mind tells you something else, which do you believe? Both are just as apt to lie. In fact, they play at deceit all the time. Mostly they balance each other, giving us that crucial reality check. But what happens on the rare occasions when they conspire together?”

“Now look at me! Take a good look! I was born and I knew I was alive and I knew what I wanted. What do you think is alive in me? Why do you think I'm alive? Because I have a stomach and eat and digest the food? Because I breathe and work and produce more food to digest? Or because I know what I want, and that something which knows how to want—isn't that life itself? And who—in this damned universe—who can tell me why I should live for anything but for that which I want?”