“Maybe all of life has a mind,′ she said, her eyes roving over the small room, over the empty tables. ‘Maybe the flowers watch us. Maybe the trees think and hate us that we can walk. Or maybe, just maybe they don’t care. The horror of Lasher is that he has begun to care!”

“Maybe all of life has a mind,′ she said, her eyes roving over the small room, over the empty tables. ‘Maybe the flowers watch us. Maybe the trees think and hate us that we can walk. Or maybe, just maybe they don’t care. The horror of Lasher is that he has begun to care!”

— Anne Rice