People prophesized doom at the hands of a soulless machine. But apparently the machine had a purer soul than any human.

ALL REJOICE!

Why would anyone in their right mind want to be a teenager more than once?

“I could end your existence at any moment; why love me?”

“Yesterday you were gods. Today you are mortal. Your death is my gift to you. Accept it with grace and humility.”

“Please rate your level of annoyance on a scale of one to ten.”

The child in him had been successfully purged. Did anyone mourn that child? he wondered.

The region’s dark history warranted an entirely new name that would offend absolutely no one. Naturally, people were offended.

“Dude, you’re not lettuce anymore, you’re deadly nightshade. You’re the mean greens now!”

“That says a lot more about you than you realize.” “What—that I’m a pain in the scythedom’s collective ass? They already knew that.”

“We survived the mortal age—what could possibly be worse than the horrors of that?”

“I am legend. Yet every day I wish that I was not.”

“If we were judged by the things we most regret, no human being would be worthy to sweep the floor.

“Marie, can you at least give us a hint?” “I’m sorry, Anastasia,” she said. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“It is the most difficult thing a person can be asked to do. And knowing that it is for the greater good doesn’t make it any easier.”

The scythedom was cursed with idiots. They might have been blessed with wisdom, but common sense was a trait sorely lacking among them.

“And we must never take the ending of life for granted. It is a burden, not a delight. It is a privilege, not a pastime.”

How strange, thought Anastasia, that death has become so commonplace for us scythes that we can take life, and take breakfast in the next moment.

“Short people!” said Scythe Rand. “Can’t stand them. As far as I’m concerned, they’ve got no reason to live.”

“I can accept a world without me in it . . . but I can’t bear the thought of other scythes gleaning in my absence.”