“They . . . are . . . so. . . sorry, ” she whispered. “The machine brings back no . . . pictures . . . only the food and air and water. It is programmed . . . as you suggested, Dem Lia . . . to eliminate infestations. They are . . . so . . . so . . . sorry for the loss of Ouster life. They offer the suicide of . . . of their species . . . if it would atone for the destruction.”

“A lot of people would kill for my life, but I didn’t even consider that. I took it—and you—for granted. I’m so, so sorry for that”

“So your junk food has a shelf life of twenty-two years and will probably outlive your fat, sorry ass.”

“I am sorry,' he whispers. 'I am sorry I treated you so ill. I thought only to protect Duval.''It was not I who was poisoning him,' I say.'No, but you had stolen his heart and I was afraid you would rip it from his chest when you left.”

“Robert, I’m sorry that you feel so strange, but I’m not sorry that you’re feeling it because of me,” I whispered, my heart feeling a familiar twinge as I continued, “but even if you hadn’t felt it, it would not change the way I feel about you.”

“I'm so sorry for loving you, I'm so sorry.... But it was such a wonderful dream, my love, such a wonderful dream.”