I am tired of the "vintage" stock I’ve kept in the cellar. It tastes of dust and cellar mold. I crave the heat of a living heart, the sharp, metallic sting of copper on the tongue...

It is a strange thing to read history written by men who died thinking their legacies were permanent...

There is a profound peace in the celestial. The stars do not hunger, they do not mourn, and they do not change their course for anyone...