"I was among a group of people, men and women, fully clothed. We lay on top of each other in neat rows about seven or eight across. Eventually, the pile was many people deep. Suddenly, I panicked-although I was on the top of the pile-and I cried: what about those underneath? Those at the very bottom, and those in between? We all got up in an orderly way, without haste, and when we looked, those at the bottom were not simply flattened by the weight, they were just their clothes, neatly pressed and folded on the ground. They were their clothes, neatly pressed and folded on the ground."
"If my flesh would leak and dissolve, and I could live as bone, if I were forged bone, plucked bone and brain, warm hair and a bony heart, if I were all bone, I could brandish myself without terror, without any terror at all-I could be indestructible. (...) My bones fail. My bones fail, my bones are shattered and fall away, my bones fail and all that's left of me is a scraped marrow and a dying jelly."
"Tell me, Father, have you never felt humiliated to find that you belong to a world that's dying? (...) Surely, this must be the last age of time we're living in. There can't be any more left but the black bottom of the bucket."