Smoke Gets in Your Eyes: And Other Lessons from the Crematory

by Caitlin Doughty

Because nothing says love like being allowed to sleep in a man’s doorway on a dog bed.

I love the death.

I play with the wigy [sic] board once.

Buddhists say that thoughts are like drops of water on the brain; when you reinforce the same thought, it will etch a new stream into your consciousness, like water eroding the side of a mountain.

The silence of death, of the cemetery, was no punishment, but a reward for a life well lived.