“We were germs, it said, or we were dust.”

“He would always, always live in this terrible Coventry where old gods went to die; gods who would never speak to him; and with no hope of return.”
“We were germs, it said, or we were dust.”
“TUESDAY: Almost lose an eye to a case of Toilet Duck.”
“Death is looming at the end of every story ever told.”
“Some three hundred thousand years after the Schöningen Spears marked the beginning of our perpetual arms race, we finally kicked it up a notch.”
“Here. Here remain the suffering dead. Listen and you will hear them, if the night is still.”
“The bones of this land are a conduit to a thing we cannot name; primal and endless, without beginning or end.”
“I arrived too late for Anarchy Bridge; too late for that freaked out array of anarchistic statements and surreal slogans, too late for the I have seen the fnords and the ALL HAIL DISCORDIA. Too late for all that.”
“The Black Pad is a wilderness seized, the urban sprawl of Wood End and Potters Green trapping it like a feral dog on a weakening leash.”
“A death, any death, is the death of a universe unique and novel and marvellous, an attitude, an outlook, a spark blinking out of existence for an eternity, with life now a jigsaw with a forever missing piece.”