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21 " Death is the ending of all true stories. "
― , Keturah and Lord Death
22 " I have observed that you treat a man as an old garment to be taken apart and stitched again. Perhaps you could think of him as good cloth, rich fabric that wants only to be embroidered upon. And perhaps, if you will do that, you will see that you love Tailor yourself. "
23 " My lord, why do you trouble me by walking with me in the dark? It is cruel.""I think to protect you from them," he said. "
24 " There was no breath in him, no flush of blood, no taint of sweat or tears. Next to him, I felt the grossness of my own body, how more I was like the earth than I was like him. He was air and wind and cloud and bird; I was dust and worm. "
25 " There are some who come willingly," I said, as if I had not heard him, "not out of love, but out of sickness and sadness and a lack of understanding. He wanted none of them. And so he waited without waiting, and dreamed of what he could not imagine, and performed his terrible work and lived only in the moments out of which eternity is spun, knowing it was hopeless. "
26 " Tell me what it is like to die," I answered.He dismounted from his horse, looking at me strangely the whole while. "You experience something similar every day," he said softly. "It is as familiar to you as bread and butter.""Yes," I said. "It is like every night when I fall asleep.""No. It is like every morning when you wake up. "
27 " If my father discovered my secret, that for some time now I have been foiling his efforts to have the hart, I would lose my thumbs indeed, son or no," he said. "But it is cold, and I would have my clothes back. "
28 " I was halfway between my home and the cookhouse when a mist of cloud began to creep across the early-risen moon. It darkened the ground enough that I did not see a small depression, and I stumbled. Immedietly I was steadied by some force I could not see, and then, as if the coming night clotted into a visible personage, I perceived that Lord Death was beside me. "
29 " There is no hell. Each man, when he dies, sees the landscape of his own soul. "
30 " The hope of yellow must be nothing to the taste of it, she thought. "