“He was trying to fit this Herakles onto the one he knew.”

“He was already fading. I knew that it wouldn't be long until he was just a vague image, however much I tried to cling onto his memory.”

“He knew her, and she knew him. He had no idea if the images he saw came from past or future, or both, but he knew her. Their souls were bound, had always been bound, and always would be. They were two with one soul between them, perfectly joined, perfectly fitted.”

“All he knew was that they fit somehow, and that he felt as if he spent most of his life traveling a path that led inexorably to her.”

“He tried to read her heart in her handclasp but he knew nothing.”

“One of those moments he knew he'd remember and look back on, one of those moments that he'd try to capture in the stories he told. Nothing was happening, really, but the moment was thick with mattering.”