"No," he says, taking us both in. "No, no, no. You've come farther than most people on this planet will in their lifetimes. You've overcome obstacles and dangers and things that should've killed you. You've outrun an army and a madman and deadly illness and seen things most people will never see. How do you think you could have possibly come this far if you didn't have hope?"

And it hurts her, but it's an okay hurt, but it hurts still, but it's good, but it hurts.

Belief is half of all healing. Belief in the cure, belief in the future that awaits.

You love him," he says. Not an asking, just a fact. "I do," I say. Also a fact.

... a good idea always attracts other good ideas.

And I look at her sitting there and she looks across the river and we wait as the dawn fully arrives, each of us knowing. Each of us knowing the other.

To say you have no choice is to relieve yourself of responsibility.