Good people see past their own fucking lives.

… we shoved out many hopes and fears into their hands, believing those hands were strong because they had firm handshakes. They failed us, always. There was no way they could not fail us –...

We will cry and bleed and lust and love, and we will cure death. We will be the cure. Because we want it.

Are we all just Dark Age doctors, swearing by our leeches? We crave a greater science. We want to be proven wrong.

My friend “M” says the irony of being a zombie is that everything is funny, but you can’t smile, because your lips have rotted off.

My mind has cleared a little; I’ve regained some instincts and associations, echoes of the Living world if not actual memories. Those I still have to steal.

Maybe eventually winter will finish our job for us and end the world in ice instead of blood.

No hizo falta mucho para reducir el castillo de naipes de la civilización. Solo unas pocas ráfagas y pasó, la balanza se inclinó, se rompió el encanto. Los buenos ciudadanos se dieron cuenta de que...

It’s not about keeping up the population, it’s about passing on who we are and what we’ve learned, so things keep going. So we don’t just end.

…thinking all this maximalism would somehow generate happiness?

Soft flesh is eaten by hard teeth.

Why is it beautiful that humanity keeps coming back? So does herpes.

What happened? How did I get here? How could I have known that my choices mattered?

I want to change my punctuation. I long for exclamation marks, but I’m drowning in ellipses.

There’s not really such thing as ‘good’ or ‘bad’ people, there’s just like…humanity. And it gets broken sometimes.

Una vez que has llegado al fin del mundo importa muy poco qué ruta tomaste.

I mean obviously, staying alive is pretty fucking important . . . but there’s got to be something beyond that, right?

Me agarro el estómago de nuevo. —Me siento vacío… Me siento…muerto. Él asiente. —Matri…monio.

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.