"Eventually, the Gray Man thought, if he resisted using it for long enough, he himself might forget his own name, and became someone else entirely."

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I know not when the day shall be, I know not when our eyes may meet; What welcome you may give to me, Or will your words be sad or sweet, It may not be 'till years have passed, 'Till eyes are dim and tresses gray; The world is wide, but, love, at last, Our hands, our hearts, must meet some day.

— Hugh Conway