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“Ya no deseaba estar muerto. Al mismo tiempo, no se puede decir que se alegrara de estar vivo, pero por lo menos no le molestaba. Estaba vivo, y la persistencia de este hecho había empezado poco a poco a fascinarle, como si hubiera conseguido sobrevivirse, como si en cierto modo estuviera viviendo una vida póstuma. Ya no dormía con la lámpara encendida y desde hacía muchos meses no recordaba ninguno de sus sueños.”
― Paul Auster, City of Glass

“We each owe a death, there are no exceptions, I know that, but sometimes, oh God, the Green Mile is so long.”
― Stephen King, Coffey on the Mile

“I love you. I love you. I love you. I'll write it in waves. In skies. In my heart. You'll never see, but you will know. I'll be all the poets, I'll kill them all and take each one's place in turn, and every time love's written in all the strands it will be to you.”
― Amal El-Mohtar, This Is How You Lose the Time War

“He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”
― Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights