Status Updates From The Life of Death

"...her colleagues viewed her as being fundamentally changed by her illness. It has made her angry. She'd wanted to spit her suspicions in their faces, tell them that she and her uterus were not synonymous, and that the removal of one did not imply the eclipse of the other."

“Every love story was—at the last—a story of death.”

“Sometimes there was wisdom in forgetting.”

“We cry for ourselves, don’t we? Not for the dead. The dead are past caring.”

“Redeem the time.”

“So selfish,” he said. “Don’t you think? Spoiling a farewell with snot and sobs. We cry for ourselves, don’t we? Not for the dead. The dead are past caring.”

REDEEM THE TIME.

"We cry for ourselves, don't we? Not for the dead. The dead are past caring."

"We cry for ourselves, don't we? Not for the dead. The dead are past caring."

"There was nothing to come, nothing to aspire to, nothing to dream of. She stood in a patch of smoke-thickened sun, thinking of this, and was almost happy."