“He looked at her then, and she could see he wasn't afraid."Nothing really dies as long as it's not forgotten," he said.”

“Nothing really dies as long as it's not forgotten”

“He might be tall enough to see into tomorrow, but he hadn’t looked there in a long, long time.He’d forgotten how bright it was.So bright he could hardly stand it. ”

“We're not robbing him," Skulduggery said." But I'm afraid I have some bad news.""Is it Deacon?" Francine asked, her eyes wide."It is.""Is he sick?""It's a little worse than that."She gasped. "He's dying?""He was briefly dying," said Skulduggery. "Now he's dead.”

“She looked so beautiful in the moonlight, but it wasn't only the way she looked, it was what was inside her, everything from her intelligence and courage to her wit, and the special smile she gave only to him. He would slay a dragon, if there were such a thing, just to see that smile. He knew he would never want anyone else for as long as he lived. He would rather spend the rest of his life alone than with someone else. There could be no one else.”

“The tears of those who never cry, the calm, the levelheaded ones, are terrible to see. She seemed to be split or torn by the force of the tears, which she squeezed her eyes shut against, which she forced back with her fist against her lips. Smokey, afraid and awed, came immediately to her as he might to rescue his child from a fire, without thought and without knowing quite what he would do. When he tried to take her hand, speak softly to her, she only trembled more violently, the red cross branded on her face grew uglier; so he enveloped her, smothered the flames, Disregarding her resistance, as well as he could he covered her, having a vague idea that he could by tenderness invade her and then rout her grief, whatever it was, by main strength. He wasn't sure he wasn't himself the cause of it, wasn't sure if she would cling to him for comfort or break him in rage, but he had no choice anyway, savior or sacrifice, it didn't matter so long as she could cease suffering.”