I’ve lost so many people. Some I left on purpose and never looked back. Some were taken from me, and I never said good-bye.

Nobility and self-sacrifice sound wonderful in theory, but now he’s seen how it feels. A dead hero is still dead at the end of the day, and you’re still alone.

There’s a hollow where he used to be, and it echoes with self-imposed loss.

He'd said the sun could burn me. It certainly looked angry enough, all orange and glowing mad.

I’ve lost so many people. Some I left on purpose and never looked back. Some were taken from me, and I never said good-bye.

I imagine the ones we’ve lost as ghosts who prowl about the edges of the light, waiting for us to join them. Sometimes that’s terrifying, and sometimes it’s reassuring, a promise of homecoming.

Most people can’t stomach silence; it provides too much opportunity to think about things they prefer to avoid.