“I guess I felt attached to my weakness. My pain and suffering too. Summer light, the smell of a breeze, the sound of cicadas - if I like these things, why should I apologize?”

“The training of a Mord-Sith takes years - to learn to handle the pain. I guess it's also why only women are Mord-Sith, men are too weak.”

“It's why I went into teaching in the first place. I like the sound of my own voice. Well that, and I am addicted to the smell of chalk and white-board markers.”

“While they argued, the pain blazed on. My blood boiled in my veins. Why was I doing this? Was he worth all of this pain? Why should I care if he lived or died?"I love him." The words came out as a whisper, but they seemed to diminish the heat. I felt stronger and more sure of myself.”

“I guess I just don't get the point. It's like, why should you bother getting attached to anything if,A: It's never gonna last, andB: It hurts like hell when it's over?”

“In the morning light, I remembered how much I loved the sound of wind through the trees. I laid back and closed my eyes, and I was comforted by the sound of a million tiny leaves dancing on a summer morning.”