There’s no certainty in this, Baruk. That seems a fact particularly galling to you humans. - Steven Erikson

"Words are like coin — it pays to hoard."
"Until you die on a bed of gold," Paran said.

Death cannot be struggled against, brother. It ever arrives, defiant of every hiding place, of every frantic attempt to escape. Death is every mortal's shadow, his true shadow, and time is its servant, spinning that shadow slowly round, until what stretched before one now stretched before him.

He’d seen enough of life to know he wouldn’t miss it much. His only regret was the grief his death would level upon those who cared for him.