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(He would never find it again, that kind of friendship. But once is enough. You need it only once—so that you may know what your human heart is capable of.)
“There are strange days ahead. The most dangerous human talent is forgetting.”
“For instance: consider the greatest riddle of all—what you should do with your one brief life? The answer is different for each person. There is no neat answer, though many have tried to offer one. There are no answers to being alive. There are only strong pieces of advice.”
“stop expecting life to get easier. It never does; that is not where its goodness lies.
“do not wait for people to be faultless before you allow yourself to adore them. Adore them anyway. Such things are worth more than riddles.”
“Hope is a little lie that the powerless use to comfort themselves.”
“And so I owe you a debt. And I pay my debts!” “Do you?” said Nighthand. “Or do you pay what you choose to pretend is your debt? Who is your debt accountant? Your own conscience? Because your conscience is a drunkard. What you have done is not a debt that’s payable.”
“This is the thing my blood keens for—to protect something worth protecting.”
“She’s brave.” “Is that true? Or some of your baffling human politeness, where you say neat and tidy things about people you despise?”
The jealousy gripped at his organs, stomach and lungs and throat. Jealousy is not like anything else. It is a locust. It eats a great deal that cannot be spared.
“But I have seen red dragons fly over mountains in the falling sun. And I have seen people offer up their lives to save one another, as if it were as natural as breathing. I’ve known lovers find each other in war and famine. I have seen promises made and kept for entire lifetimes, unswervingly, as if it was easy. I’ve seen lions at midnight. I have seen wonder on wonder on wonder. I have seen how the world shines.
I need you, when you get back, to tell them: the brutality is terrible. And yes: the chaos is very great. But tell them: greater than the world’s chaos are its miracles.”
“That is why great power must never reside in only one person. It must be shared.” Her rough voice was rougher than before. “It must be spread, among as many good women and men as can be found; not because it is kind or polite or fair, but because it is the only way to beat back against horror.”
“Ow! Hey! What was that for?” “To leave a scar. So you don’t ever ask yourself, Was it real? It was as real as you are, and you are very real.” He did not need the scar.
His love for Mal had been the finest part of him—he knew that already. It had made him brave. It is what is meant by miracles. And though she was gone, the love burned on.
