I would look up at the moon and see that it was not the smooth orb we had all believed, but a pitted and scarred world with no air.

Don't simply knock and wait for the door to be opened. Go look for the keys. Some fit the lock better than others.

I turned to look into his face one last time. It was as if I could see the whole universe in his eyes. Maybe he was God, maybe he was simply enlightened. I didn't care right then, in that blessed moment, I just loved him. Later, though, the love was to turn to hate, to fear. They seemed so opposite, the feelings, yet they were all one note on his flute.

They are all I have left—the stars and the memory of the many times I wished upon them. But with all those wishes, I asked for only one thing. To see him again. But I will not see him again. I do not see him now.

Love me...I am not evil.

I'm tired of being responsible for 203 lives, and I'm tired of deciding which mission is too risky and which isn't, and who's going on the landing party and who doesn't... and who lives, and who dies.

There is no time for grief; there never is.