“The cover was pebbled black leather, the pages onionskin, and he opened it carefully. It was his first Bible, the one his mother had given him, the one that had taken its time showing him what he was supposed to do with his life, his size, that voice of his. It was the one used for his ordination, and when he had buried his mother on a autumn hillside in Tennesee five years ago. King James. He didn't care about the scholars or the accuracy or the bringing of his church into whatever century they claimed it was these days; he cared about the poetry, and about the comfort it brought to those who needed to hear it.”

“Mulder strolled into his office whistling.It was the kind of day that began with a gorgeous, unreal sunrise... he was half-afraid he was dreaming...It took a second for him to notice Scully in his chair.'Morning,' he said brightly.All he needed now was a generous supply of sunflower seeds, and things would be perfect.Scully reached down beside her, and tossed him a plastic bag.He caught it against his chest one-handed and held it up. It was a half pound of sunflower seeds. He smiled. A sign; it had to be a sign.”

“You're supposed to be sleeping' Mulder didn't jump, didn't turn his head. 'The day you figure out how to turn off my brain Scully let me know.' He shook his head, but carefully. 'Amazing isn't it?' 'Your brain?' She leaned her forearms on the railing. 'It's okay but I wouldn't call it amazing.”

“[Mulder] slowed as he approached the front walk, slipping his left hand into his pocket to wrap around his gun. Front or back? Wait for Scully, or do the stupid thing and go in on his own?He had no realistic alternative.”

“Oliver has long since grown stout and healthy; but health or sickness made no difference in his warm feelings to those about him, though they do in the feelings of a great many people. He was still the same gentle, attached, affectionate creature that he had been when pain and suffering had wasted his strength; and when he was dependent for every slight attention and comfort on those who tended him.”

“Mulder stumbled, and Scully grabbed his arm to steady him. He smiled at her wanly. 'Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?''Since when did you ever think I was helpless, Mulder?'Never, he thought; never.”

“And Harry saw very clearly as he sat there under the hot sun how people who cared about him had stood in front of him one by one, his mother, his father, his godfather, and finally Dumbledore, all determined to protect him; but now that was over. He could not let anybody else stand between him and Voldemort; he must abandon forever the illusion he ought to have lost at the age of one, that the shelter of a parent’s arms meant that nothing could hurt him. There was no waking from this nightmare, no comforting whisper in the dark that he was safe really, that it was all in his imagination; the last and greatest of his protectors had died, and he was more alone than he had ever been.”