“His view of the world is one that keeps his blood pressure low, sweeping the cholesterol from his relaxed, freeway-sized arteries. Everyone knows he is going to live till age ninety, although the question that goes begging is, “for what?”

“Blood squirted as his transected femoral artery haemorrhaged to the rhythm of his horrible heart.- From Potter's Field”

“No man knows till he experiences it, what it is like to feel his own life-blood drawn away into the woman he loves.”

“No one should live forever," I whisper. "Isn't that how it goes? There must be a balance. No birth without death. No life without tears. What is taken from the world must be given back. No one should live forever, but should give his blood to the river when the time comes so that tomorrow another may live. And so it goes.”

“Although he liked nearly everything else about himself, Keith hated his redeeming features. In his view they constituted his only major shortcoming -his one tragic flaw.”

“Raistlin lay on the floor, his skin white, his breathing shallow. Blood trickled from his mouth. Kneeling down, Caramon lifted him in his arms."Raistlin?" he whispered. "What happened?""That's what happened," Tanis said grimly, pointing.Caramon glanced up, his gaze coming to rest on the dragon orb - now grown to the size Caramon had seen in Silvanesti. It stood on the stand Raistlin had made for it. Caramon sucked in his breath in horror. Terrible visions of Lorac flooded his mind. Lorac insane, dying..."Raist!" he moaned, clutching his brother tightly.Raistlin's head moved feebly. His eyelids fluttered, and he opened his mouth."What?" Caramon bent low, his brother's breath cold upon his skin. "What?""Mine..." Raistlin whispered. "Spells...of the ancients...mine...Mine..." The mage's head lolled, his words died. But his face was calm, placid, relaxed. His breathing grew regular.”