The date which the chisel engraves in the tablet, and which is recorded in the parochial registers, is later than our own death; we are already dead when nothing touches us, neither a word nor a yearning nor a memory. I know that I am not dead.
There’s nothing like a good kiss. There’s also nothing like a bad kiss. But why do we kiss in the first place? It’s such an odd activity, yet 90% of all people do it. Laci joins Anthony in search of the answer.