"Does it work? Are they happier dead?" "Sometimes. Mostly, no. It's like the people who believe they'l be happy if they go and live somewhere else, but who learn it doesn't work that way. Wherever you go, you take yourself with you. If you see what I mean"

"It's only death. I mean, all of my best friends are dead." "Yes". Silas hesitated. "They are. And they are, for the most part, done with the world. You are not. You're alive, Bod. That means you have infinite potential. You can do anything, dream anything. If you change the world, the world will change. Potential. Once you're dead, it's gone. Over. You've made what you've made, dreamed your dream, written your name. You may be buried here, you may even walk. But the potential is finished."

"Can't I stay here? In the graveyard?". "You must not," said Silas, more gently than Bod could remember him ever saying anything. "All the people here have had their lives, Bod, even if they were short ones. Now it's your turn. You need to live"

Bod said, "I want to see life. I want to hold it in my hands. I want to leave a footprint on the sand of a desert island I want to play football with people. I want," he said, and then he paused and he thought. "I want everything."

"Leave no path untaken," repeated Bod. "A difficult challenge, but I can try my best".