I thought it was daffodil heaven. Well, I've since planted more, because the deer don't eat them.

We both like gardening. We spend all our time pulling weeds.

You love to see them ? if they'd just go straight through.

How to Commit the Perfect Murder" was an old game in heaven. I always chose the icicle: the weapon melts away.

I thought I was in heaven.

His eyes went again to the crucifix above his head, reflected in the mirror. The strained arms, the arched spine. All that effort to open the gates of heaven for us and we (he thought) probably spend out first hours among the heavenly hosts settling old scores with relatives.