“Everyone loves a dead artist. It’s the living ones that people can’t tolerate.”

“Everyone loves a dead artist. It’s the living ones that people can’t tolerate.”

“I’m not some outdated alarm company, like Muldoon Security, singular. I’m offering a whole new variety of services, plural—water testing, soil graphs, toxic air readings, the security of this century. The security that you aren’t being poisoned in your own home.”

“The Greeks used to say that gods and animals were born whole. It is only humans who need to develop, that they become complete only with the help of a community. It’s the state of that community that can turn a human into a god or a beast.” She dropped the bee into the terrarium and returned it slowly to the table. “Maybe that’s bullshit. I happen to like the beasts.”

“Sometimes it seemed like the whole point of life was not to die the same death as your father.”

“All your convictions come back to mock you when you reach a certain age.”

“I’ve always looked like this—in between. Is there ever an age when a person looks exactly like themselves?”

“Everyone loves a dead artist. It’s the living ones that people can’t tolerate.”

“Maybe, in the end, a home is a place where you have no other choice but to stay.”

“Women had cup sizes to track their development. Men had a ruler and hope.”

“That’s what children eventually were for their aging parents: custodians of technology, free personal IT departments keeping them from disappearing forever from the universal cloud.”

“You know how hard it is to actually touch the world? To make a mark on it? You die and they bury you in it.”