White Dog Fell from the Sky

It's a fearful thing to love what death can touch.

We are doorways, openings into something greater than ourselves, something that we don't understand and will never understand. We have nothing precious in and of ourselves. We are only precious in that we are part of something that is too big to know.

By day, Ian was like the stars, there but not there. At night was when the beasts of grief came for her.

He believed in something larger than himself, but there was no evidence to point to someone or something listening to a man with brown leather shoes and a sweaty shirt. He didn't find this unusual or disturbing. Why should he be noticed when there were so many others to notice? It was like the dry blades of grass at his feet. Every blade was different, reaching for the sky in its own humble way, but from a goat's perspective, they were all the same: something to eat.

The world does not wish to be saved. It carries us a short distance and drops us when it’s done with us.

Every person alive thinks they are the center of the universe, that they are everything, when in fact each of us is less than nothing.

What is a bird if it can't fly? It might as well be a cockroach.

The Earth had a habit of begetting monsters, hatched from ignorance and greed.