You're not very good at being contemplative," Milo said. "You always sound like some bad caricature of a philosopher, like those fortune cookies with 'Confucius say' or the Nietzsche guy from Mystery Men that's always saying 'when you walk on the ground, the ground walks on you.

It's a hard life, but it's the only life we have. And sometimes-' he pointed to a bright flash of lightening, its jagged light stretching from the sky to the ground, '-it's still beautiful. Sometimes you find something that makes this all worth it. And when you do, you hang onto it for as long as you can.' He turned to me, shrugging one shoulder. 'That's the best you can do.

Forever is a really long time, you know? What do you do with forever?" "The same thing you do when you don't have forever." He smiled wanly. "Live.

I don't think I've ever really had a home before, not until I met you.

Have you tried?" Tove countered, his eyes sparkling. "Well...no," I admitted. "Do it." "How?" He shrugged. "Figure it out." "You're really good at this training thing," I said with a sigh.

I still have the same friends I've had for the last 15 or 20 years.

Every man would fall in love with their voice, their lovely appearance, but no man would ever get past that. They'd never really know the girls for who they actually were, never really love them. It would be impossible for any of the four girls to ever really fall in love and be genuinely loved in return.