"What’s wrong with you, is you. Your heart can no longer bear the weight of your conscience.”
"There’s nothing wrong with my conscience.”
"No? Then turn around."
"Why should I? I saw my death in a dream, I was an old man. How do I know I will not survive this? Perhaps this will pass, and I will get better, the dream is prophecy.”
"Prophecy is a guess that comes true, when it doesn’t it’s a metaphor. You could put a gun to your head tomorrow and pull the trigger and then the dream is just a dream. The prophecy is just a metaphor. And so are you.
You’re out of time, Londo turn around!”
"I can’t, I don’t know what he wants from me."
“Yes you do. The thing that has eaten away at your heart until it could not endure the pain a moment longer. You must let go of this, or you will die here, alone, now.”
"Perhaps, perhaps that is for the best then…"
"No. Not for the best."
"Because… I will miss you."
"and I suppose… that I would miss you…"