“Why did he write to her, “I can’t live without you?” And why did she write to him “I can’t live without you?” For he went west and she went east and they both lived.”

“Tell me which you could sooner do without, love or water.”“What do you mean?”“I mean, could you live without love, or could you live without water?”“Why can’t I have both?”

“Swear it on your life. (Zephyra)That I can never do. (Stryker)Why can’t you? (Zephyra)Because you are my life, and I can’t live another day without you. (Stryker)”

“I can live without you,’ she said. ‘I can live without a man I’ve only known for one hundred and eighty days.’‘And how have those calculations helped?’ he demanded to know.She didn’t respond except for a look down her nose at him and a curl of her lip. So much for the angry half-spirits being responsible for the savages within them both. This was pure Quintana. ‘Then step away,’ he taunted. ‘If you can live without me, step away.’He felt her warm breath on his throat.‘Because you can’t,’ he said. ‘You think you can, but we’re bound, and not just by the gods or by a curse or even by our son. We are bound by our free will. And you can’t step away, because you are not willing.’He bent, his mouth close to hers.‘Step away,’ he whispered. ‘If you step away I’ll learn from you. I’ll find the desire in me to live without you. Much the same as you want to live without me.”

“Come on,” he said to Valentine one day. “Let’s fly away and live forever.”“We can’t,” she said. “There are miracles even relativity can’t pull off, Ender.”“We have to go. I’m almost happy here.”“So, stay.”“I’ve lived too long with pain. I won’t know who I am without it.”So they boarded a starship and went from world to world. Wherever they stopped, he was always Andrew Wiggin, itinerant speaker for the dead, and she was always Valentine, historian errant, writing down the stories of the living while Ender spoke the stories of the dead. And always Ender carried with him a dry white cocoon, looking for the world where the hive-queen could awaken and thrive in peace. He looked a long time.”

“If anyone went on for a thousand years asking of life: 'Why are you living?' life, if it could answer, would only say, 'I live so that I may live.' That is because life lives out of its own ground and springs from its own source, and so it lives without asking why it is itself living. ”