“But she’s wrong about hell. You don’t have to wait until you’re dead to get there.”

“And Harry remembered his first nightmarish trip into the forest, the first time he had ever encountered the thing that was then Voldemort, and how he had faced him, and how he and Dumbledore had discussed fighting a losing battle not long thereafter. It was important, Dumbledore said, to fight, and fight again, and keep fighting, for only then could evil be kept at bay, though never quite eradicated. . . .And Harry saw very clearly as he sat there under the hot sun how people who cared about him had stood in front of him one by one, his mother, his father, his godfather, and finally Dumbledore, all determined to protect him; but now that was over. He could not let anybody else stand between him and Voldemort; he must abandon forever the illusion he ought to have lost at the age of one, that theshelter of a parent’s arms meant that nothing could hurt him. There was no waking from his nightmare, no comforting whisper in the dark that he was safe really, that it was all in his imagination; the last and greatest of his protectors had died, and he was more alone than he had ever been before.”

“Killers aren’t always assassins. Sometimes, they don’t even have blood on their hands.”

“The dead do not hurt you; only the living do.”

“There was no hope in death, only an end.”

“In life, more than in anything else, it isn’t easy to end up alive.”

“So since I’m still here livin’,I guess I will live on.I could’ve died for love–But for livin’ I was born.”

“It would be wrong to refuse to face the fact that everything is fundamentally sick and sad.”

“…When you die, the energy that kept you alive filters into the people you loved. Did you know that? It’s like a fire you’ve tended all your life, and the sparks are all scattered into the wind…. That’s why we survive as long as we do, because the people who loved us keep us going.”

“Though you may hear me holler,And you may see me cry–I’ll be dogged, sweet baby,If you gonna see me die.”

“If you wear black, then kindly, irritating strangers will touch your arm consolingly and inform you that the world keeps on turning.They’re right. It does.However much you beg it to stop.It turns and lets grenadine spill over the horizon, sends hard bars of gold through my window and I wake up and feel happy for three seconds and then I remember.It turns and tips people out of their beds and into their cars, their offices, an avalanche of tiny men and women tumbling through life…All trying not to think about what’s waiting at the bottom.Sometimes it turns and sends us reeling into each other’s arms. We cling tight, excited and laughing, strangers thrown together on a moving funhouse floor.Intoxicated by the motion we forget all the risks.And then the world turns…And somebody falls off…And oh God it’s such a long way down.Numb with shock, we can only stand and watch as they fall away from us, gradually getting smaller…Receding in our memories until they’re no longer visible.We gather in cemeteries, tense and silent as if for listening for the impact; the splash of a pebble dropped into a dark well, trying to measure its depth.Trying to measure how far we have to fall.No impact comes; no splash. The moment passes. The world turns and we turn away, getting on with our lives…Wrapping ourselves in comforting banalities to keep us warm against the cold.”Time’s a great healer.””At least it was quick.””The world keeps turning.”Oh Alec—Alec’s dead.”

“Did you get notes for me?””No”, Ronan replied,”I thought you were dead in a ditch.”

“At the end to death I must go,Finishing a real tragic and funny show.”

“The dead know only one thing, it is better to be alive”

“I could write my name across the sky, and it would be in invisible ink.”