“Burned and squashed to death in a silver vat of soup. There must be worst ways to go. But not many.”

“At birth, we emerge from dream soup.
At death, we sink back into dream soup.
In between soups, there is a crossing of dry land.
Life is a portage.”

“Those who live as the many, must die with the many, and go to hell with the many. The way to hell is broad and well beaten. The way to be undone forever is to do as the most do.”

“Has it not got down as thin as the homeopathic soup that was made by boiling the shadow of a pigeon that had starved to death?”

“Hope for the best. Expect the worst.
The world's a stage. We're unrehearsed.
No way of knowing which way it's going.
Take your chances, there are no answers.
Hope for the best. Expect the worst.”

“Is it fair your life burns so short and bright? Death had asked.

"No such thing as fair," Frank told himself. "If I'm going to burn, it might as well be bright.”

“All ways of dying are hateful to us poor mortals,
true, but to die of hunger, starve to death—
that's the worst of all.”

“Being the companion of the folk of this world is fire. There must be an Abraham if the fire is not going to burn”

“Guess now who holds thee?"—"Death," I said. But there
The silver answer rang—"Not Death, but Love.”

“Starlight and comet tails burned the tips of endless grass below into hammered silver. Like thousands of tapers in the chapel, just blown out but still glowing.
If one could drown in the grass… it might be the best way to die.”