“What shall I compare it to, this fantastic thing I call my Mind? To a waste-paper basket, to a sieve choked with sediment, or to a barrel full of floating froth and refuse? No, what it is really most like is a spider's web, insecurely hung on leaves and twigs, quivering in every wind, and sprinkled with dewdrops and dead flies. And at its centre, pondering forever the Problem of Existence, sits motionless the spider-like and uncanny Soul.” MindSoulProblemExistenceForeverWindWastePaperRefuseFantasticCompareHungCentreFloatingSpidersPonderingBasketsBarrelsUncannyTwigs Book:An Anthology Source: An Anthology
“I imagine a soul is a little perfect crystal egg floating in your chest. Somewhere deeper than where they put your heart. Somewhere so deep inside that the doctors can't find it with all their machines and microcameras.” HeartLittlesSoulPerfectImagineDoctorsMachinesDeeperEggsChestsFloatingCrystalsDeep Inside Book:The Children and the Wolves Source: The Children and the Wolves