“My spirit will sleep in peace; or if it thinks, it will not surely think thus. Farewell.”

“But soon," he cried, with sad and solemn enthusiasm, "I shall die, and what I now feel be no longer felt. Soon these burning miseries will be extinct. I shall ascend my funeral pyre triumphantly, and exult in the agony of the torturing flames. The light of that conflagration will fade away; my ashes will be swept into the sea by the winds. My spirit will sleep in peace, or if it thinks, it will not surely think thus. Farewell.”

“To quench my longing I bent me low By the streams of the spirits of Peace that flow In that magical wood in the land of sleep.”

“Remembering now all those farewells (fake farewells, worked-up farewells), Irena thinks: a person who messes up her goodbyes shouldn’t expect much from her re-unions.”

“Thus went my first Court Day.I think I'm going to puke.”

“Think not, is my eleventh commandment; and sleep when you can, is my twelfth.”