Összes idézet

Yeesha (teaching the player the saving mechanism): Go ahead and take a picture! Just… make sure your thumb is not in the shot. Dad always ruins his images that way.

Atrus (utolsó mondatok, good ending): Now I understand… endings and beginnings are within the Fissure, that Riven-cleft of stars that acts as both wall and a bridge. And though I am unable to understand how, the very flow of stars that brought my Myst book into worthy hands, I am sure, served as a safe passage home for my friend. The Age of Riven is closed forever, but the people of Riven are free. And now, I am at rest, understanding that in Books, and Ages, and life… the ending can never truly be written.

Atrus (a játék kezdő, és az Atrus könyvének záró sorai): I realized, the moment I fell into the fissure, that the Book would not be destroyed as I had planned. It continued falling into that starry expanse, of which I had only a fleeting glimpse. I have tried to speculate where it might have landed—I must admit, however, such conjecture is futile. Still, the question of whose hands might one day hold my Myst Book are unsettling to me. I know my apprehensions might never be allayed, and so I close, realizing that perhaps the ending has not yet been written.

Atrus: It's as if a door inside me has closed, despite everything I've done to keep it open.

Yeesha: It is the whispers and murmurs that reveal the truth.

Yeesha: The powerful need controlled fortresses and garrisons to guard their power, and soon the guarding is yet another thing to be proud of! Layers within layers built to preserve their ages and their pride from the weak and least who might attack from without! And yet… it is from the within that most nations fall.

Yeesha: They came thousands of years ago, seeking the shelter of the caverns to return to leastness. They found solace in their smallness in the dark. So did I. But light is powerful in the darkness.

Yeesha: Many paths led me to this place. The path of my great-grandmother, bringer of destruction. The path of my grandfather, rebuilder of pride. The path of my mother, writer of dreams… and my father. My dear father… the caretaker of burdens. And I knew that at the end of such great paths must lie a great purpose.

Yeesha: The water flows where it moves. It seeks it's own path, and control, except that it flows downward, always downward. […] The water flows downward… and there, in pools it collects. And finally, once again, it reaches the roots, and a tree begins to grow again.