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“That time always ends a second before you’re ready. That life is the minutes you want minus one.”

“Nothing is all good or all bad,” she says. “Life is so much messier than that.” And there in the dark, he asks if it was really worth it. Were the instants of joy worth the stretches of sorrow? Were the moments of beauty worth the years of pain? And she turns her head, and looks at him, and says, “Always.”

“The aftermath breeds art,” he says. “But war makes believers out of cynics. Sycophants desperate for salvation, everyone suddenly clinging to their souls, clutching them close like a matron with her finest pearls.”

"She will use a hundred names over the years, and countless times, she will hear those words, until she begins to wonder at the importance of a name at all."

"Perhaps an enemy’s company is still better than none."