Fine, I guess I'll just stay here and eat dirt or whatever.

Tread carefully, now. Not even a god would survive sacrificing me.

In a thousand years, when I’ve all but forgotten how to love yet again, you’ll flit back into my heart, and I’ll weep, wondering what happened to my mad love.

How would you feel about helping me kill some evil bastards?

It's not you, it's me - I have standards.