I figure it was Billy's soul on his way to glory. There was this hole and it was so bright I could hardly see. I wanted so bad to see what was on the other side. But I was scared.

Den lille mannen går hjem for å vaske opp. Han smiler og er lykkelig. Det er slike dager som forandrer oss for all evighet, tenker han.

At han kan plukke ned kartene hvis han synes verden er for jævlig.

Det ga meg sånn avsmak at jeg til slutt fortalte det til Annette... Det var ikke så lett, for med betroelser veit en aldri hvor en til slutt ender opp... En trur en skal rulle ut et par-tre ting, ferdig med det, men det er akkurat som om en hadde såpa inn trappa, ett skritt feil og faen! der ligger en nederst i trappa og er helt mørbanka etter å ha sagt så mye.

“Sometimes being a friend means mastering the art of timing. There is a time for silence. A time to let go and allow people to hurl themselves into their own destiny. And a time to prepare to pick up the pieces when it's all over.”

• Bestemor, du som veit alt, er eg ein ekte, skikkeleg isbjørn?
• Ingen veit alt, sa ho. - Kva hadde vel livet vore utan nokre mysterium?

Jeg kan ikke dø nå, doktor. Ikke ennå. Jeg har så mye ugjort. Senere har jeg hele livet på meg til å dø.

Brutha hesitated. It dawned on him, very slowly, that demons and succubi didn't turn up looking like small old tortoises. There wouldn't be much point. Even Brother Nhumrod would have to agree that when it came to rampant eroticism, you could do a lot better than a one-eyed tortoise.

There was a dim glow pulsing from the middle of the hazel thicket, as if a tiny cloud of stars were glimmering there.

And there was a voice, a high clear, female voice, which said, 'Ow,' and then, very quietly, it said 'Fuck,' and then it said 'Ow,' once more.

And then it said nothing at all, and there was silence in the glade.

God does not play dice with the universe: He plays an ineffable game of His own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players [i.e. everybody], to being involved in an obscure and complex variant of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time.

-- (Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman, Good Omens)

But most times it feels as though the memory of what never was would always be sweeter than anything that could have been... (Kazu Kibuishi)