They live forever. But many of them are even more lonely and miserable than we are. Why do you think they bother with us? We teach them life's value.

The priest's lesson: beware the Nightlord, for his pleasure is a mortal's doom. My grandmother's lesson: beware love, especially with the wrong man.

There's truth even in tainted knowledge, if one reads carefully.

You're very lucky... Friends are precious, powerful things - hard to earn, harder still to keep. You should thank this one for taking a chance on you.

And in that sliver of time, I felt the power around me coalesce, malice-hard and sharp as crystal. That this analogy occurred to me should have been a warning.

But love like that doesn't just disappear, does it? No matter how powerful the hate, there is always a little love left, underneath. Yes. Horrible, isn't it?

If the gods do decide to wipe us out, is it such a bad thing? Maybe we've earned a little annihilation.