"Padme had never known how much he loved her.
She had died, as far as he knew, in a lonely, far-off place, on a planet that, if not the hell envisioned by the superstitious beliefs of sundry worlds, certainly came close. That was as far as he’d traced her final journey: to Mustafar, a globe still in the throes of creation, where rivers of fire and molten rock stitched across a landscape of basalt and obsidian, and where specially designed heat-resistant droids mined the lava flows for rare and precious minerals. A terrible place, a world of eternal darkness, of soot-filled skies and mephitic gases. No one deserved to die in such a place, especially not Padme. If she had to die, she should have spent her last hours on a world of sunlight and song, like their mutual homeworld of Naboo, a world of green and blue, not black and red."
"Darth Vader stood on the command bridge of the Mustafar control center, hand of durasteel clasping hand of flesh behind him, and gazed up through the transparisteel view wall at the galaxy he would one day rule.
He paid no attention to the litter of corpses around his feet.
He could feel his power growing, indeed. He had the measure of his “Master” already; not long after Palpatine shared the secret of Darth Plagueis’s discovery, their relationship would undergo a sudden … transformation.
A fatal transformation.
Everything was proceeding according to plan."
"How many days ago had it been? He couldn’t remember. Not many. When you don’t sleep, days smear together into a haze of fatigue so deep it becomes a physical pain. The Force could keep him upright, keep him moving, keep him thinking, but it could not give him rest. Not that he wanted rest. Rest might bring sleep.
What sleep might bring he could not bear to know."
Anakin Skywalker on his dreams of Padme’s death
"As he looks up into the eyes of Anakin Skywalker for the final time, Count Dooku knows that he has been deceived not just today, but for many, many years. That he has never been the true apprentice. That he has never been the heir to the power of the Sith. He has been only a tool."
"It seems to me that most sentients live in a … cocoon of illusions and expectations. We are full of assumptions: we think we know ourselves and those around us; we think we know what each day will bring. We are confident we understand the arc and trajectory of our lives. Then Fate intervenes, strips us down to bare metal, and we see we are little more than debris, floating in darkness."
Sean Stewart, Yoda: Dark Rendezvous
"The only position that leaves me with no cognitive dissonance is atheism. It is not a creed. Death is certain, replacing both the siren-song of Paradise and the dread of Hell. Life on this earth, with all its mystery and beauty and pain, is then to be lived far more intensely: we stumble and get up, we are sad, confident, insecure, feel loneliness and joy and love. There is nothing more; but I want nothing more."
Christopher Hitchens (via atheismfuckyeah)
"He pushed the woman into place under the glaring surgical lights and reached into his coat pocket for his favorite scalpel. Tiresome to do without a nurse, but he’d had to kill Nurse Chavez when she’d started whining about his efforts to please Aphrodite, threatening to turn him into the constables. Of course, he hadn’t killed her till he’d done some fine experimentation on her doll-like visage. He still had Chavez’s face in a refrigerator, somewhere, along with some others he’d peeled off and saved in preservative jars, faces from patients who’d given there lives for his perfect fusion of art and science. He really must try to organize his preserved faces with a filing system."
John Shirley, Bioshock: Rapture
"Don’t be afraid of death; be afraid of an unlived life. You don’t have to live forever, you just have to live."
"Set me as seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death."
Words from the shadowhunter marriage ritual ~ Cassandra Clare, City of Fallen Angels
"Let conversation stop. Let laughter cease. Here is the place where the dead delight to teach the living."
Words inscribed above the doors of the Ossuarium in the Silent City — Cassandra Clare, City of Fallen Angels
"Can there be any act of creation that does not first destroy? Villages fall. Cities rise. Humans die. Life springs from the soil wherein they lie. Is not any act of destruction, should time enough pass, an act of creation?"
Conversations with the Sinsar Dubh ~ Karen Marie Moning, Shadowfever