Lines from the novel, The Golden Compass, by Philip Pullman.

What he choose, he will do harm, but maybe if he does, the right thing will come about if he chooses wrong.

God preserve me having to make at sort of choice.

Perhaps, we don’t mean the same thing by choice.

Death will sweep through all the world, it will be the triumph of despair, forever. The universe will all become nothing more than inter-looking machines, blind and empty, of thought, and feeling and like.

God help us of the come here.