Wars don't bring lasting peace, only lasting death.

You get what you expect. Expect to heal. Expect victory.

‎What doesn't bend must break, when dooms are apportioned and destiny takes the lead. As it will now, and as it must, until this struggle ends.

These warriors of the Sacred Band were inscrutable; they loved their war and death and picking through the bones of time to sort out right from wrong, good from bad, holy from profane, honor from dishonor.

Death is a doorway, Niko, that leads to an adventure greater than any you have ever known.

Tempus would be protected, better shielded from whatever the Stepson thought threatening, if love could heal and save.

Revenge is fruitless.