[...] A lot of times, people die how they live. And so last words tell me a lot about who people were, and why they became the sort of people biographies get written about.
[...] being human is being a young child on Christmas Day who receives and absolutely magnificent castle. And there is a perfect photograph of this castle on the box and you want more than anything to play with the castle and the knights and the princesses because it looks like such a perfect human world, but the only problem is that the castle isn't built. It's in tiny intricate pieces, and although there's a book of instructions you don't understand it. And nor can your parents or Aunt Sylvie. So you are just left, crying at the ideal castle on the box which no one would ever be able to build.
[...] Many people must be ruled to thrive. In their selfishness and greed, they see free people as their oppressors. They wish to have a leader who will cut the taller plants so the sun will reach them. They think no plant should be allowed to grow taller than the shortest, and it that way give light to all. They would rather be provided a guiding light, regardless of the fuel, than light a candle themselves.
[...] the whole of human history is full of people who tried against the odds. Some succeeded, most failed, but that hasn't stopped them. Whatever else you could say about these particular primates, they could be determined.
[...] The anger of the tongue. You have to fear it. All have to fear it. [...] The anger of the teeth is force by contact. Violence by touch. Combat. [...] Ripping. Tearing. The anger of the tongue needs not touch, but it is force just the same. It cuts just as quick.
[...] this is the species whose main excuse for not doing something is 'if only I had more time'. Perfectly valid until you realise they do have more time. Not eternity, granted, but they have tomorrow. And the day after tomorrow. In fact, I would have to write 'the day after' thirty thousand times before a final 'tomorrow' in order to illustrate the amount of time on a human's hands.
[...] Warum also schrecke ich vor uralten Knochen unter der Erde zurück? Weil sie einmal zu einem lebendigen Wesen gehört haben, das geatmet, gelacht und sich gefürchtet hat, wie du. Weil sie dir vor Augen führen, dass du eines Tages ebenso tot sein wirst wie sie. Dass das Einzige, was deinen Zustand von ihrem unterscheidet, ein paar Jahre sind. Oder weniger.
'Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be Thinking maybe you come back into the place that we'd meet And you'll see me waiting for you on the corner of the street