First Aid (p.5):
How much waiting we used to do, she thinks. Waiting without knowing. So many blanks we couldn't fill in, so many mysteries. So little information. Now it's the first decade of the twenty first-century, space-time is denser, it's crowded, you can barely move because the air is so packed with this and that. You can't get away from people, they're in touch, they're touching, they're only a touch away. Is that better or worse?
Two Scorched Men (p.18)
We resist the notion that we'll become mere handfuls of dust, so we wish to become words instead. Breath in the mouths of others.
My Evil Mother (p.51-p.77)
Impatient Griselds (p.95-p.101)
Finished 20th of May
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