I’ve always thought cemeteries were like cities. There are streets, avenues—you’ve seen them, I think… — Peter S. Beagle

I am infected with life and will die of it in time.

I walked a long way that night, thinking many philosophic thoughts which, fortunately, I don’t remember.

“Ravens bring things to people. We’re like that. It’s our nature. We don’t like it. We’d much rather be eagles, or swans, or even one of those moronic robins, but we’re ravens and there you are. Ravens don’t feel right without somebody to bring things to, and when we do find somebody we realize what a silly business it was in the first place.” He made a sound between a chuckle and a cough. “Ravens are pretty neurotic birds. We’re closer to people than any other bird, and we’re bound to them all our lives, but we don’t have to like them. You think we brought Elijah food because we liked him? He was an old man with a dirty beard.”