“He had to fight. That's all he had. Not memories, not experiences, not skills. He had a will. And his will was to fight until he couldn't fight anymore.”

“He was in his chair in the corner, resting a second before he came out for the next round -- in a long line of next rounds. The thing he was fighting, you couldn't whip it for good. All you could do was keep on whipping it, till you couldn't come out anymore and somebody else had to take your place.”

“That girl had ruined his life. He had fallen in love with her fast and hard. Stella had stormed into his perfectly normal life and scrambled it until he didn’t know what was worth fighting for anymore. All his dreams and ambitions featured her now. Every time he imagined his future life, he saw her in it, and every time that happened he had to remind himself that she didn’t want to be imagined there. She didn’t want him, not for the long run.When in fact, Stella was all he wanted.”

“He had undertaken a little assay at the good fight and found that neither the good nor the fight was left to him . . . he had gone after life again and they had shown him life and made him eat it.”

“I was his exception, and as much as I had tried to fight my feelings, he was mine.”

“He was lost. He knew it. He had neither the size nor the strength to defeat her, and she had him cornered. But he would fight. He was a warrior, the prince-son of the unicorns, and he meant to go down fighting. There would be no songs to mark his death; and none of his people would even know. But he had saved Korr and the others of the band. It was noon — they were safe out of the hills by now, and none of the rest of it mattered.”