“Hell must be like... reminiscing about the good old days when we wished we were dead.”
“That's what hell must be like, small chat to the babbling of Lethe about the good old days when we wished we were dead.”
“We become like dead branches and last year's leaves and what the hell good are we for ourselves and the world in a mental ghetto.”
“I wish she was dead,' he says. 'I wish they were all dead and we were, too. It would be best.”
“We are all our own graveyards, I believe; we squat amongst the tombs of the people we were. If we're healthy, every day is a celebration, a Day of the Dead, in which we give thanks for the lives that we lived, and if we are neurotic we brood and mourn and wish that the past was still present.”
“it must be hell when we kill something , we must be the worst way to die”