In a world of sorrow, love was an act of will. All you needed were the right ingredients.
The weak are cruel. The strong have no need to be.
Love is worth the sum of itself, and nothing more.
We had to survive to remember. Otherwise everything we were would disappear. Those people we loved would fade as though we'd never loved them, as if they'd never walked and talked and burned, forgetting them was the real evil. That was the hole of darkness.
We are only an instant, that's true. But we are eternal.
Those you love will not drown or burn. They will fly away.' ...'Now we both have people we love who are like birds. They have flown far from anything in this world that can hurt them. They're flying away still.