Hate comes from the past, fear from the future. Pain and pleasure are now, and therefore their own trap. - Steven Barnes

The price of chemical ecstasy was a dear one, paid in flesh and spirit.

Aubry looked at her without shifting his head. Damn, she was lovely. An unpleasant question remained: What where they to each other? It was hard to say sometimes. Did he truly feel love, or just the effects of the Cyloxibin mushroom? And was there a difference?

No man escapes Death. So Death must not be the enemy. Life must not be the prize. It must be the gameboard, on which Death teaches its savage lessons. You could heed those lessons, or ignore them, but never evade them.
Death, then, was the ally. Not to be sought, but heeded.