I lie on the floor, washed by nothing and hanging on. I cry at night. I am afraid of hearing voices, or a voice. I have come to the edge, of the land… - Margaret Atwood

"By now you know: I come from another planet. But I will never say to you, "Take me to your leaders." Even I — unused to your ways though I am — would never make that mistake. We ourselves have such beings among us, made of cogs, pieces of paper, small disks of shiny metal, scraps of coloured cloth. I do not need to encounter more of them.

Instead I will say, "Take me to your trees. Take me to your breakfasts, your sunsets, your bad dreams, your shoes, your nouns. Take me to your fingers; take me to your deaths."

These are worth it. These are what I have come for."

The young habitually mistake lust for love, they're infested with idealism of all kinds.

We are survivors, of each other. We have been shark to one another, but also lifeboat. That counts for something.