good sh*t

“I can smell that kind of ambition. It’s not about making the world better, it’s about using marvelous potential and intelligence to . . .” She paused to think. “To feel like they matter. I won’t work with people like that, because if they don’t think they matter despite being some of the most successful, important, influential people on earth, wha

Jenny would remind you that it’s the ones who look back who turn into pillars of salt.

And when I felt nothing I almost became nostalgic for the grief; at least when you felt pain you knew you were still alive.

This is what time travel is. It’s looking at a person, and seeing them in the present and the past, concurrently. And that mode of transport only worked with those one had known a significant time.

From here, even in the darkness, she could make out the coastline. Here and there lights shone, marking peoples' lives.

She had thought after Ichigo that she would never fail again. She had thought she arrived. But life was always arriving. There was always another gate to pass through.

But lately that kind of intimacy felt impossible. She wasn't quite sure how it had happened, or when, but distance seemed to be spreading between them like spilled ink, staining everything.

Down on the street the protesters are shouting at each other, and at Lucas, but most of all they’re probably shouting just to shout. Just to be heard. Lucas stands quietly for a very, very long time, thinking about how awful it must feel: to be a person who so desperately wants something to happen. Lucas never wants anything to go on at all.

It isn’t a sadness, but a joy, that we don’t do the same things for the length of our lives.