Give me enough words, enough attendant gravity, and I might fall into myself forever, crushed infinitely flat by my own hubris. It'd be a neat trick,… - Caitlín R. Kiernan

Julia follows the beach, the sand that is so white it makes her doubt the beaches in Heaven could possibly be any whiter, the water like peacock feathers lapping at the shore, vivid green blue going hyacinth out where the sea starts getting deep.

Dead people, dead ideas and supposedly dead moments are never really dead and they shape every moment of our lives. We ignore them and this makes them powerful.

Ele me afogou na água verde debaixo da ponte. Fizeram um violino do meu esterno. Fizeram cravelhas dos meus dedos. No inverno, eu me deito sob o gelo e o céu estava cinza e lembrava vidro.