"When you are seized by the feeling that nobody will ever come to you, that this solitude will not loosen its grip on you, ever, you must still find the strength to extend your arms, […] to hear the whisper of that wild voice that calls you from well before your beginnings. […] Medication only patches up the desire to live, or the heartache, or the professional failure, or the feeling of inadequacy; for nothing can sew up such a wound. Nothing except creation, what opens the wound elsewhere and differently, but on less shifting ground."

— Anne Dufourmantelle, Power of Gentleness: Meditations on the Risk of Living

“I was wondering how many people have … stopped moving.”

“You’re very kind to use our words. But you already know what it means to live… and to die. You’re asking about our friends who have ‘died’, not 'stopped’. Seven of our friends stopped functioning recently… I think our lifespan is limited… I’ve suspected this ever since the first one came to a stop. It varies a little, but most of us stop moving one year after production.”

“No…”

“I haven’t told anyone else about this. If I did, they’d feel the same way I do.”

"How do you feel?“

"I don’t know… Fear? I don’t want to stop. And maybe I want to run away from it all. But living in the village with everyone fills me with joy. The joy of living with them far outweighs the fear of death. Isn’t it the same for you? Traveling with your friends gives your life meaning.” (Black Mage No. 288)