“She greets death with a curtsy.”

You can hit me and push me but you can’t quite beat me.

I lay awake thinking about how none of it had to happen for me to get to this point; and how I’m glad I got there, anyway.

It’s just me and my mangled limbs your touch soothing but unconvincing singsong whispers of lives unlived.

And if you only opened the window you’d see the morning light seep through.

Hearts retch on homestretch where will we go?

I don’t believe in love at first sight; only now I realize that you did.

As I feel your heart shatter like sand through my helpless fingers I envision ripples through the tar of your blood.

I don’t think any person in America should die because they are too poor to live.

Live as tho death is not the inevitable end.

This is good for you. Death is a thing of beauty, and it needs to be executed in such a way that does it justice.

Death is not the biggest fear we have; our biggest fear is taking the risk to be alive – the risk to be alive and express what we really are.

How exhausting it must be to fear death, when you can simply howl at the moon.

I’ve noticed that about your people, Doctor. You find it easier to understand the death of one than the death of a million. You speak about the objective hardness of the Vulcan heart, yet how little room there seems to be in yours.

Eulogy. Praise of a person who has either the advantages of wealth and power, or the consideration to be dead.

Justice is the handmaiden of truth, and when truth dies, justice is buried with it.