Leviathan Falls (The Expanse #9)

by James S.A. Corey

There was a purity about someone who could casually hold death in his hands, just waiting for the right moment.

“He isn’t you. I’m not saying he won’t fuck it all up, but even if he does, it’ll be however he fucks it up. Not how you did.”

Time had done its healing, or at least let the scars go numb.

Every generation had its apocalypse. If they made humans stop falling in love and having babies, celebrating and dreaming and living out the time they had, they’d have stopped a long time before.

“I know this isn’t the perfect time,” he said. “But there’s never going to be a perfect time. There will always be something.

Part of why I am what I am is all the bad choices my mom and dad made, and if they’d done differently, they’d still have made some mistakes somewhere along the line, and those would be part of me instead.

Idiotic hubris or well-earned confidence, it could be hard to tell the difference until it was too late.