“You are dead, you know!” he screeched delightedly, “Come on Miss Wright! Die! Die! DIE!”

“You don’t like me, do you?” she asked suddenly and pathetically, just like a small child. Sergei did not look at her but merely said, “What makes you think that?” “It is normal to try to make conversation while in the car with someone, isn’t it?” “Oh, well, my English is only average,” he lied. “Maybe, but I speak Russian,” she persisted Sergei grunted. “What, your Russian is only average too?” she said, raising an eyebrow.”

“They say love dies between two people. That’s wrong. It doesn’t die. It just leaves you, goes away, if you aren’t good enough, worthy enough. It doesn’t die; you’re the the one that dies. It’s like the ocean: if you’re no good, if you begin to make a bad smell in it, it just spews you up somewhere to die. You die anyway, but I had rather drown in the ocean than be urped up onto a strip of dead beach and be dried away by the sun into a little foul smear with no name to it, just this was for an epitaph”

“Thus I die. Thus, thus, thus.Now I am dead,Now I am fled,My soul is in the sky.Tongue, lose thy light.Moon take thy flight.Now die, die, die, die.”

“If you die, I'll die.''But is you live, I'll live.'- Bowman and Kestrel, Firesong”

“There’s death coming up, and you better understand this: some of the wrong people die. Be ready for it.”

“Come, Lady, die to live.”