The funny thing about facing imminent death is that it really snaps everything else into perspective.

Yes, Max, you are going to die. Just like everybody else.
Thank you, Confucious.

When compared to the fact that he might very well be dead by this time tomorrow, whether he was courageous or not today was pointless, empty. When compared to the fact that he might be dead tomorrow, everything was pointless. It just didn't make any difference. It was pointless to the tree, it was pointless to every man in his outfit, pointless to everybody in the whole world. Who cared? It was not pointless only to him; and when he was dead, when he ceased to exist, it would be pointless to him too. More important: Not only would it be pointless, it would have been pointless all along.

This was an obscure and rather difficult point to grasp. Understanding of it kept slipping in and out on the edges of his mind. It flickered, changing its time sense and tenses. At those moments when he understood it, it left him with a very hollow feeling.

Fang swerved closer to me, big and supremely graceful, like a black panther with wings.

Oh, God. I'm so stupid. Forget I just said that.

"He needs a Band-Aid," I said. A look passed between me and Fang, full of suppressed humor, relief, understanding,love — Forget I said that too. I don't know what's wrong with me.

State law is really tight about what you can and can't do regarding bonuses. Our understanding is that, at the very least, people should have been made aware of [the bonuses], and we don't think it should be allowed.

Glaring at the Gasman, ter Borcht said, “Your time is coming to an end, you
pathetic failure of an experiment. Vhat you say now is how you vill be
remembered.”
Gazzy’s blue eyes flashed. “Then you can remember me telling you to kiss
my-”
“Enough!” ter Borcht said.