Your turn to chop. My turn to cook. Your turn to die for love. My turn to resurrect.

“When I was kid, my father said Hell was a great feast. He said the people at the table had these long arms with no elbows, and they were trying to feed themselves and they were starving. He said Heaven was a great feast, too. He said the people at the table had these long arms with no elbows, and they were feeding each other and they were full. I think this was supposed to be a story about selfishness or about how Hell is self-inflicted, but I think it’s a story of short-sightedness. I think it’s about how circumstances do not define us, but we’ve got to look past our elbowless arms, or we’re going to keep starving our way through this.”