We die every day," Kit said. "It's called being human.

No one owns you, I know that. No one owns me. No one owns anyone. We just get to borrow each for a while.

She was herself, the original. Everyone else was just a copy.

It followed that every act, whether the finding of a new proof for a complex mathematical problem or a twist of vision that turned one school of art into another was a result of endless failure.

Each of us has been designed for one of two immortal functions, as either a storyteller or as a cross-legged listener to tales of wonder, love, and daring. When we cease to tell or listen, then we no longer exist as a people.

It is what makes us human, what distinguishes us from other animals. We can be aware of being aware.