A powerful enough metaphor grows its own truth.

Pain is itself a god: the taskmaster of life. Pain cracks the whip, and all that lives will move. To live is to be a slave to pain.

At the heart of its strength is a weakness: a lone candle can hold it back. Love is more than a candle, love can ignite the stars.

I read once, somewhere, that the way you know you've grown up is when your future death becomes a stone in your shoe: when you feel it with every step.

... Corellian curses being a synergistic blend of vulgarity, obscenity, and outright blasphemy that were the only things really worth saying when one was in the middle of being blown to monatomic dust.

If you take out the team in teamwork, it's just work. Now who wants that?

Every time a horse let you up onto its back, it’s giving you its life. Every time.