“There’s not a stone or leaf or life that men won’t put a name to. It gives them a nice safe box to collect things in. They get in the habit of collecting things and end up surprised at the weight they’re carrying. A dream they thought might fit someday, something bright and sweet like a woman, picked up for her shine and somehow never left or at least never forgotten. Or an ambition! There’s a fine item in any man’s bag. A great, glowing ambition. They never fade, never wear even when you’ve outgrown them. Always there to look at and remember and play might-have-been.”

“And youth, though they see every day the cradle and grave shaped so alike, never believe death will happen to them. I told you it was a comedy.”

“I’ve learned and unlearned all my life; it’s helped me to survive. There are no constants, nothing is immutable, only random circumstance from which our experience builds a coherent arc of life. And for that arc you have only to be truly done with one thing before moving to another. There’s an art in letting go.”

“...for one instant, I saw the stars close enough to touch. Closer than that, part of me. Are they really so far or just that we never reach for them?”

“Tomorrow belongs to those who can learn. For those who can’t, there’s only yesterday.”

“We play very dangerous games with life and no one knows our rules.”

“See that day as I remember it. A day in June, River Severn rolling to the sea, diamonded with sunlight, gulls gliding over the quays on a mild breeze that lifted the Red Dragon standard over Camelot. A quiet enough day for the end of my world.”