But hope is no less realistic than despair. It is still our choice whether to live in light or lie down in darkness.

I don't care what the stars say about how small we are. One, even the smallest, weakest, most insignificant one, matters.

The cold stars spun to the ancient rhythm, the august march of an everlasting symphony. They are old, the stars, and their memory is long.

You're mortal, and only a mortal can afford to be romantic. When we conquered death, we murdered love.

Miss Marks, you see, makes her living by...entertaining young, and not so young, sailors...or any other members of the armed forced, or civilians, who enjoy...being entertained by ladies who...entertain.

He asks me what happened to my leg. I told him I was shot by a shark. He doesn't react. Doesn't seem confused or amused or anything. Like getting shot by a shark is a perfectly natural thing in the aftermath of the arrival.

I thought I knew what loneliness was before he found me, but I had no clue. You don't know what real loneliness is until you've known the opposite.