Wool (Silo, #1)

by Hugh Howey

Better to join a ghost than to be haunted by them. Better no life than an empty one—

Imagination, she figured, just wasn’t up to the task of understanding unique and foreign sensations. It knew only how to dampen or augment what it already knew.

We are born, we are shadows, we cast shadows of our own, and then we are gone. All anyone can hope for is to be remembered two shadows deep.

Killing a man should be harder than waving a length of pipe in their direction. It should take long enough for one’s conscience to get in the way.