Her hair is full of icy wind and daylight. She is every princess, every queen, in the history book.

I don't dare touch her. Loss is a knowledge I'm sorry to have. Perhaps the only thing worse than experiencing it, is watching it replay anew in someone else--all the awful stages picking up like a chorus that has to be sung.

People die, and everything they've ever said just echoes around and around. There's nothing new. Only the same nonsense from their lives.

I think humans have always been desperate. I think it has always been about doing something awful if it might help, when the only other option is death. Maybe that's what being a parent is supposed to feel like.

They're dead. We're alive. We have things to do.