— Where do we go when we`re dead?
— I don`t even know where we are when we`re alive. Let alone when we`re dead. I`m not the person to ask you know...
— We`re nowhere and everywhere at once. Because we never really die, Zaza. Our lives carry on with the memory of us, and all the things around us.
— Yeah, well, hold on there! You can`t possibly mean that dead people carry on living in... in... flowers for example?
— Yes, they do! Also in trees, rivers, in the wind... Zaza, don`t be sad anymore. Feathers will always be around here, looking at you, thinking about you.
— I knew it. Thank you, Lian-Chu.

— Is this a tragedy?
— A tragedy, my young lady, is a noble art form offering a symbolic vision of the world based on the intersection in the written text and the actors identity. This sharp fixed though reading life constitutes a ritual by which the spirit can be able to the point of the sacred transcendence. You understand?
— No.

You... You`re gonna have to forgive me, Lian-Chu, cuz i`m gonna do something not too nice. I`ve thought it over and i know that everyone needs a mommy. But not them. Someday they`ll realize that you`re not one of them and they`ll eat you straight away or they`ll chase you out and you`ll be an orphan all over again. They`re not your real family, Lian-Chu. We are your real family.