"Ah, dear Juliet, why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe that unsubstantial Death is amorous, and that the lean abhorred monster keeps thee here in the dark to be his paramour? For fear of that, I still will stay with thee; and never from this palace of dim night depart again: here, here will I remain..."

- Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare

"So there was no love for you?" he asked gently.

"Tell me what it is like to die," I answered.

He dismounted from his horse, looking at me strangely the whole while. "You experience something similar every day," he said softly. "It is as familar to you as bread and butter."

"Yes," I said. "It is like every night when I fall asleep."

"No. It is like every morning when you wake up."

-Keturah and Lord Death, Martine Leavitt