On the beach, Roran stood alone, watching them go. Then he threw back his head and uttered a long, aching cry, and the night echoed with the sound of his loss.

A man rarely knows the day and hour when he will die. I could be killed any moment and there's not a blasted thing I can do about it.

Books are my friends, my companions. They make me laugh and cry and find meaning in life.

Who is it who decides that one man should live and another should die? My life wasn't worth any more than his, but he's the one who's buried, while I get to enjoy at least a few more hours above the ground. Is it chance, random and cruel, or is there some purpose or pattern to all this, even if it lies beyond our ken?" -Roran

...even the smallest of the starlings' concerns grew in importance until it seemed equal to the worries of kings.

The best remedy for what ails me is being with you here under the sun.

Leave the dead to the Earth. They are not for us. - Valdr