“Laya took him by the shoulders, and the force of her grasp stopped him. "This Jannart - the man you loved," she said, looking him dead think he would want you to give up, or carry on
"I don't want to carry on! Do you not understand? Does nobody in this world understand, damn you? Is no one else haunted?" A quiver of wrath entered his voice. "Everything I did - everything I was – everything I am, is because of him. He was someone before me. I am no one without him. I am tired of living without him at my side. He left me for that book and, by the Saint, I resent him for it. I resent him every minute of every day." His voice cracked. "You Lasians believe in an afterlife, don't you?"
Laya studied him.
"Some of us, yes. The Orchard of Divinities," she said. "He may be waiting for you there, or at the Great Table of the Saint. Or perhaps he is nowhere at all. Whatever has become of him, you are still here. And you are here for a reason.’ She held a callused palm to his cheek. ‘You have a ghost, Niclays. Do not become a ghost yourself.”
―
Samantha Shannon,
The Priory of the Orange Tree