Dead Astronauts (Borne, #2)

by Jeff Vandermeer

dead things felt only love for the universe.

That love must be unbending. Love must be cruel. Love must not yield. Otherwise, love meant nothing, could do nothing.

“But we will be joyous in our death and laughing and light of foot.”

Need and want were forces like demons.

You still don’t know what it calls itself.

And what was ease but boredom?

when I’m gone, what will remain? Everything. Everything will remain.