The living do not see eternity, just as they don't see Everlost, but they sense both in ways that they don't even know. They don't feel the Everlost barrier set across the Mississippi River, and yet no one had ever dared to draw city boundaries that straddle both sides of its waters. The living do not see Afterlights, and yet everyone has had times when they've felt a presence near them - sometimes comforting, sometimes not - but always strong enough to make one turn around and look over one's shoulder.

They were the screams of riders torn apart by the twisted reflections of their own inner selves.

You never realize the holes a person leaves behind until you fall into them.

Sure, I can talk like you, but I choose not to, It's like an art, you know? Picasso had to prove to the world he could paint the right way, before he goes putting both eyes on the side of a face... See if you paint wrong because that's the best you can do, you just a chump. But you do it because you want to? Then you're an artist...You can take that to the grave and dig it up when you need it.

You don’t just go to somebody and say, ‘I’m a better person because you’re in my head.

He does not deserve this. He has done many things, not all good, but he does not deserve this. And he never did get his priest.

Connor smiles with mocking warmth at him, and glances at the tattoo on his wrist. "I like your dolphin.