I'm here because they've killed almost all of us, but not all of us. And that's their mistake, son. That's the flaw in their plan. Because if you don't kill all of us at once, whoever's left are not going to be the weak ones. The strong ones- and only the strong ones- will survive. The bent but unbroken, if you know what I mean. People like me. And people like you.

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

We are the hunters---and we are also the bait.

How do you rid the Earth of humans? Rid the humans of their humanity.

It's an either/or world now.

The beautiful wooden board on a stand in my father's study. The gleaming ivory pieces. The stern king. The haughty queen. The noble knight. The pious bishop. And the game itself, the way each piece contributed its individual power to the whole. It was simple. It was complex. It was savage; it was elegant. It was a dance; it was a war. It was finite and eternal. It was life.

Just because a man is a homicidal maniac doesn't make him wrong.