“Poets never die, I thought. They just fail in the end.”

“Afterward I told his widow, "Your husband is dead, but at least he died laughing.' I think she took some comfort in that. It is the second-best way to die, Will Henry." He did not say what the best way was.”

“Death had brought an end to their misery. Would nothing but a visitation from that same dark angel bring and end to mine?”

“Nein, Will Henry, unser Feind ist die Furcht. Blindmachende, verstandtötende Furcht. Furcht zerstört die Wahrheit und vergiftet jede Klarheit, womit sie uns zu falschen Annahmen und irrationalen Schlussfolgerungen führt.”

“But if I'm it, the last of my kind, the last page of human history, like hell I'm going to let the story end this way. I may be the last one, but I am the one still standing. I am the one turning to face the faceless hunter in the woods on an abandoned highway. I am the one not running but facing. Because if I am the last one, then I am humanity. And if this is humanity's last war, then I am the battlefield.”

“Have you fallen in love, Will Henry?" "That's stupid.""What is? Love, or my question?""I don't know.""You don't know? You've tried that trick once. What do you suppose it will work better the second time?""I don't love her. She bothers me." "You have just defined the very thing you denied.”

“Some things you can never leave behind. They don't belong to the past. They belong to you.”