The dusty tombs of long-dead exorcist priests lay in the alcoves below, surmounted by stone effigies, the features eroded by the passing of time and the reverent caresses of their grateful parishioners, a reminder, she knew all too well, of the brevity of life.

Marriage is the grave or tomb of wit.

But I was awake, sitting by the window looking down at the trailer and Mr. Zoltan's truck. I could not sleep. That is how it is with folks my age. We take naps during the day, and then we cannot sleep at night. I think that it is because God is getting us ready for the grave. Is that right? Did He ever tell you? ("The Little Stranger")

Life is like a cell phone battery if you don't pay attention to or appreciate it. It's like not remembering you have mortality. So before you even realize it's close to lights-out.

I came, I was, I went.

Life was a funny thing that occurred on the way to the grave