As promised, a bit of wit and wisdom from
Daddy, what's it like being dead? | |
No one knows, sweetie. Maybe it's like sleeping, except you never dream and you never wake up. | |
How do we know there's no dreams? | |
We don't. That's kind of the point. It's another adventure, but it's the last one. Like, you can move to California then change your mind and come back. You can cut your hair, then grow it out again. But no one comes back from the dead. | |
So death is like a crayon. When you're drawing with crayons, you can't erase or go back. |