He glanced up once, eyes bored. “Please stop talking. I’m trying to eat.

What about you? What do you do?” I needed to ask questions, draw him out. I needed to find out all the information I could. My voice sounded strong and smooth, but my hands were shaking. I put them in my lap so he couldn’t see.
“I prey on innocent villagers and terrify their children,” he said with a nasty smile. “And sometimes when I’m feeling really evil, I read books or paint.

Don't start an argument with somebody who has a microphone when you don't. They'll make you look like chopped liver.

In answer to a question you asked me not a long ago, a question I didn’t answer at the time…it is worth it. Love is a perilous dance too, you see. And if we stop dancing, we’ll die.
Don’t ever stop dancing.

I’d allowed myself to feel love –yes, love– for another person in a way I’d once sworn to myself I never would. I’d become completely vulnerable, and now I’d been torn apart with hurt and catapulted onto a path I might never have taken otherwise. I’d risked my life for an outsider. For a stranger. Worse, I had a feeling I was going to do it again.

I leave such ventures ti you younger men with the fever of life still in your blood.