Cytonic (Skyward, #3)

by Brandon Sanderson

Listening to them, I realized I really didn’t know what it felt like to just … live. Without worrying about a bomb annihilating my entire civilization one night while I slept. Without fearing that my friends wouldn’t be coming home tomorrow.

I found it interesting how humane things became once the people far up the command chain—the ones who didn’t have to bleed for the decisions they made—couldn’t force everyone into line.

“I know not that name,” the voice said. “I am the Darkshadow. He with no past. The nameless warrior cursed to wander eternity without home or ally, always seeking memories he can no longer retain. I am fleeting, but a whisper upon time itself.” He said it all with utter solemnity. Man, I loved that little fox-gerbil.

I bludgeoned them with who I was, and the emotions I felt.

Why do we remember the stories, Chet, but not our families?