“He is dead who called me into being; and when I shall be no more, the very remembrance of us both will speedily vanish.”
– Mary Shelley
Boy, when you’re dead, they really fix you up. I hope to hell when I do die somebody has sense enough to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a goddam cemetery. People coming and putting a bunch of flowers on your stomach on Sunday, and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you’re dead? Nobody.
– J. D. Salinger