У печалі є крила

BIRD ...I knew that by the time you sent your publisher your final draft of the Crow essay my work would be done.
MAN I would be done grieving?
BIRD No, not at all. You were done being hopeless. Grieving is something you're still doing, and something you don't need a crow for.

Moving on, as a concept, is for stupid people, because any sensible person knows grief is a long-term project. I refuse to rush. The pain that is thrust upon us let no man slow or speed or fix.

Perfect devices: doctors, ghosts and crows. We can do things other characters can’t, like eat sorrow, un-birth secrets and have theatrical battles with language and God. I was friend, excuse, deus ex machina, joke, symptom, figment, spectre, crutch, toy, phantom, gag, analyst and babysitter.
I was, after all, ‘the central bird … at every extreme’. I’m a template. I know that, he knows that. A myth to be slipped in. Slip up into.

Люди завжди здаються мені нудними, якщо тільки не охоплені скорботою.