Here we stand to make our peace, and I will not speak of the dead which passed from me. Let old debts be washed clean and old words be forgiven. Let old grudges be pardoned and old betrayals be forgotten. As tears do dry, so does blood, and we spilled both in frivolous battle. The ones we were are buried now, though, dead and gone and with them the ties which bound. They left not love; they left not hate. Emotions are to dust and affections are to ash. So walk we away from this place; walk we away from this end. You that I loved once, become memory and only that. I have made my peace. I will not speak of the dead.
We are ships passing in the night, now.