What is left of us? … No countries, no cultures, no wars but still no peace. What’s at our core, then? What’s still squirming in our bones when everything else is stripped?

Warga negara yang baik menyadari bahwa garis-garis yang selama ini membentuk hidup mereka sebanarnya imajiner dan mudah diseberangi.

I got nineteen years with your mom. But do you think I would’ve turned down the idea if I’d known I’d only get one year? Or one month?…There’s no benchmark for how life’s supposed to...

Nora knows better than most that nothing lasts forever. Life doesn’t, love doesn’t, hope doesn’t, so why would death, hate, or despair? Nothing is permanent. Not even the end of the world.

To be or not to be, that is the question: to go on living, fighting against this sea of troubles, or to die and end everything? Why be afraid of death? To die is to...

The burning red taste of blood floods my mouth. The sparkle of life sprays out of his cells like citrus mist from an orange peel, and I suck it in.

It frustrates and fascinates me that we’ll never know for sure, that despite the best efforts of historians and scientists and poets, there are some things we’ll just never know. What the first song sounded...

No praise, no blame. Just so.

I try to think of things to say but nothing comes, and if something did come I probably couldn’t say it. This is my great obstacle, the biggest of all the boulders littering my path....

I think I remember what love was like before. There were complex emotional and biological factors. We had elaborate tests to pass, connections to forge, ups and downs and tears and whirlwinds. It was an...

I’m alone, stumbling through the city in the dark, trying not to let the night freeze my blood.

I would like my life to be a movie so I could cut to a montage.

Music? Music is life! It’s physical emotion – you can touch it! It’s neon ecto-energy sucked out of spirits and switched into sound waves for your ears to swallow. Are you telling me, what, that...

Her life has seen little light. She is twelve years old but has a woman’s weathered poise. Her abyss-blue eyes have a piercing focus that some adults find unsettling. […] She has fired a gun...

I wish I could read what she’s written there. Instead, I pretend the letters are stars. The words, constellations.

I erupt from the dark, crushing tunnel into a flash of light and noise. A new kind of air surrounds me, dry and cold, as they wipe the last smears of home off my skin....

I am Dead, but it’s not so bad. I’ve learned to live with it.

You and I are victims of the same disease. We’re fighting the same war, just different battles in different theaters, and it’s way too late for me to hate you for anything, because we’re the...

How do I appear unthreatening when her lover’s blood is running down my chin?

So when? You know things are moving. You’re changing, your fellow Dead are changing, the world is ready for something miraculous. What are we waiting for?

It’s more eerie to be alone in a city that’s lit up and functioning than one that’s a tomb. If everything were silent, one could almost pretend to be in nature. A forest. A meadow....

Even as I think them, the words lose their context, dissolve into grains of absurdity in the vast ocean of day-to-day hunger.

So if existence was just binary, dead or alive, here or not here, what would be the fucking point in anything? My mom used to say that’s why we have memory. And the opposite of...

There’s no benchmark for how life’s “supposed” to happen. There is no ideal world for you to wait around for. The world is always just what it is now, it’s up to you how you...

Enough white lies can scorch the earth black.

I feel the flatline of my existence disrupting, forming heartbeat hills and valleys

You know things are moving. You’re changing, you fellow Dead are changing, the world is ready for something miraculous. What are we waiting for?

Suddenly exhausted, she closes her eyes and slips into nightmares again. Graveyards rising out of the ocean. Her friends’ corpses in the light of their burning school. Skeletons ripping open men’s chests and crawling inside....

You won’t starve, R. In my short life I made so many choices just because I thought they were required, but my dad was right: there’s no rule book for the world. It’s in our...

My mom used to say that’s why we have memory. And the opposite of memory—hope. So things that are gone can still matter. So we can build off our pasts and make futures.

Every time I go to sleep, I know I may never wake up. How could anyone expect to? You drop your tiny, helpless mind into a bottomless well, crossing your fingers and hoping when you...

I should stitch my mouth shut. Honesty is a compulsion that’s damned me more than once. But I just can’t hold it in anymore. The words build and explode out of me like an uncontainable...

Is this muteness a real physical handicap? One of the many symptoms of being Dead?Or do we just have nothing left to say?

Sex, once a law as undisputed as gravity, has been disproved. The equation is erased, the blackboard broken

Deep under our feet the Earth holds its molten breath, while the bones of countless generations watch us and wait.

That’s why we have memory. And the opposite of memory— hope. So things that are gone can still matter. So we can built off our pasts and make future.

Well we have to. We have to remember everything. If we don’t, by the time we grow up it’ll be gone forever.

Your dreamers. You ridiculous children. You dancing grinning fuckups. Here is your bright future. Your earnest, saccharine hope. How does it taste dripping from the neck of everyone you love?

You can order yourself to treasure a moment, to cling tight to a feeling and never let it fade, but it’s your brain, that three-pound lump of hamburger, that makes the final call.

I’d like to sit down with him and pick his brain, just a tiny bite somewhere in the frontal lobe to get a taste of his thoughts” -Warm Bodies

Nature is hungry. It is ready to take back what the man stole from it by living.

I have begun to wonder where I came from. The person I am now, this fumbling, stumbling supplicant… was I built on the foundations of my old life, or did I rise from the grave...

Of course, if I eat all of him, if I spare his brain, he’ll rise up and follow me back to the airport, and that might make feel better. I’ll introduce him to everyone, and...

She remembers sprinting over the thin after-waves that slid over each other like sheets of glass. When she ran with the waves it looked like she wasn’t moving. When she ran against them it looked...

The past is made out of facts… I guess the future is just hope.

Some part of me remembers what snow is, but this is the first time my new mind has seen it. It softens the crumbled sidewalks and turns rusty rooftops white. It’s beautiful. It crunches under...

She hugs me. It’s tentative at first, a little scared, and yes, a little repulsed, but then she melts into it. She rests her head against my cold neck and embraces me. Unable to believer...

What’s wrong with people?” she says, almost too quiet for me to hear. “Were they born with parts missing or did it fall out somewhere along the way?

The shadows of the room pool in the lines of our faces, draining our eyes of hue. “There’s nothing left worth saying.

You should always be taking pictures, if not with a camera then with your mind. Memories you capture on purpose are always more vivid than the ones you pick up by accident.