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I’m not a joiner. Any time you work with people, they turn out to be inept clowns.

“I got to missing her, the way things used to be here, the past. The past,” she repeated. “It’s always out there, isn’t it? I hate now. I hate that whenever you look at a clock, it shows a different time. What’s the use of knowing what time it is, if it’s always changing? And it’s always later!”

“That’s me, that old guy, that old drunk guy! Who claimed he was my dad? Like, me from the future?”

“One future, not the future. There isn’t any the future.”

Gabriel scowled through his glasses. Why were ghosts such imbeciles? Who could be blamed for striving, at any cost, to avoid forever the decay-of-self that death was?

When my mother told me the meek would inherit the earth, I told her all I wanted of it was the shovelful that would cover my cold face.

“She did love us. Does.”

“She loves you the way a drowning person loves somebody they can push down and climb on top of.”

People in 1900 didn’t think that radium could hurt you, just carrying a chip of it in your pocket like a lucky rock, and then one day their legs fell off and they died of cancer. Not believing something is no help if you turn out to be wrong.

He remembered his dismay at finding himself committed to a hand of cards without having honestly looked at the stakes, fourteen years ago. Had he been doing it again? But if the stakes were too frightening to consider, and the game was already lost, what value could there be in clear comprehension?

Gambling was the place where statistics and profound human consequences met most nakedly, after all, and cards, even more than dice or the numbers on a roulette wheel, seemed able to define and perhaps even dictate a player’s...luck.

Let us quickly be finished with the business of dying, to save the trouble of making dinner.

It’s important to feel good about yourself. This morning I met somebody I really like—me.

It wasn’t fair, but fairness was something you had to go get; it wasn’t delivered like the mail.