“During my tenure at the Endowment, I often found that those who did us the most damage did so under the justification of helping us by 'preventing worse language.' In the military it would be called friendly fire. One ends up just as dead.”

“He told us that most of us would die violently, and those who did not would be brought down to the level of beasts.”

“Edward and I had not had a last grand scene of farewell, nor did I plan one. To speak the word was to make it final. It would be the same as typing the words The End on the last page of a manuscript. So we did not say our goodbyes, and we stayed very close to each other, always touching. Whatever end found us, it would not find us separated.”

“Did I not feel charmed at those truly genuine expressions of nature, which, though but little mirthful in reality, so often amused us?”

“Yet even in the loneliness of the canyon I knew there were others like me who had brothers they did not understand but wanted to help. We are probably those referred to as "our brother's keepers," possessed of one of the oldest and possible one of the most futile and certainly one of the most haunting instincts. It will not let us go.”

“I found myself jealous of the people who wrote the books. They were dead and they were still taking up my time. Who did they think they were?”