“I am so close to the edge that I could vomit, so close that it would be easy to jump.”

“Once again, I found myself on the edge looking down, wondering when I’d get so close that I’d fall. Or maybe I’d just jump.”

“I am incomplete without my work. I am so closely bound to it, so much identified by it, that without it I think I would crumble into dust and drift away.”

“But once in a while . . . I don't know. I feel so close, Rose. So close to the edge. Like if I allow myself one small misstep, I'll plunge away and never come back. It's like I'll lose myself.”

“Sometimes I would like to cry. I close my eyes. Why weren't we designed so that we can close our ears as well? (Perhaps because we would never open them.) Is there some way that I could accelerate my evolution and develop earlids?”

“They have gone. And the tunnel is about to close. So, boys, I am looking for someone to blame.”