Star Wars: From a Certain Point of View

The most beautiful form of mastery is the art of letting go.

Every person Obi-Wan ever truly loved---Anakin, Satine, Padmé, and Qui-Gon himself---came to a terrible end. Three of them died before his eyes; the other fell to a fate so bleak that death would've been a gift.

Time is a circle. The beginning is the end.

Bail Organa sent Leia herself to summon me. When I saw her---saw Padmé in her so strongly, and even a little of Anakin, too---I knew my exile was nearly at an end.

I may be a country girl who's never been offplanet, but even I'm aware that when a Jedi walks up to you and says, "Here, have a baby," it's not going to end well.

Even now, at just three years old, it is obvious that Luke longs to fly. It is like seeing Anakin all over again. The mop of unruly blond hair, the bright blue eyes, the hands permanently tinkering. Luke isn't content to just play with his toys. He's constantly at work modifying them, making improvements.

I do not welcome Lord Vader quite literally attempting tot shove his religious beliefs down my throat.

I think my teacher was wrong: making cheese wasn't what I was born to do. I was born to make people feel good when everything around them seemed just awful.

he was wrong, and trying to crush someone else’s windpipe doesn’t make you any less wrong,

My creation will be your destruction.

As Obi-Wan will soon learn, the most beautiful form of mastery is the art of letting go.

Well… I guess I could always go back and tell their stories later. Out of order? That’s just going to confuse everybody!

Location of Incident (Settlement, Planet, Region): Mos Eisley, Tatooine, Outer Rim Were any other members of your detachment involved in this incident? Oh yes. Very much so. Which ones? (Be specific!) Literally all of them.

That was the most bitter irony of war: The greatest acts of love for your family were the ones that kept you apart from them.

More than anything, he wanted them to know that even though they would grow up never knowing their father, it was not for the lack of his love for them. No, it was because he loved them so, because he was determined they have the life they deserved, that he had given everything to help secure it for them. That was the most bitter irony of war: The greatest acts of love for your family were the ones that kept you apart from them.

If we didn’t we’d be summarily executed, remember? Or long-distance choke-smashed by your beloved archwizard woo-woo-in-chief.

It happens so fast, Laina, you don’t even realize it’s happening. One day, your friends are eating breakfast with you in the canteen, and when it’s time for dinner, they’re wearing an Imperial uniform.

It wasn’t weapons that kept people obedient, despite what Motti, what Krennic, what Tarkin himself believed. Weapons riled people up, reminded them that they could fight. It was bureaucratic mediocrity that made them accept their fate. Show a man a blaster, and he looked for a way to take it for himself and turn it on you. Tell a man he can fight in court, and nine times out of ten he’ll disappear just to avoid the tediousness.

It was a mother's duty to worry, but a queen's responsibility to endure.

The Jedi Order that provided the entire framework for Obi-Wan’s life was consumed by betrayal and slaughter. Every step of this long, unfulfilling journey is one Obi-Wan had to take alone… and yet he never faltered. As the rest of the galaxy burned, his path remained true. It is the kind of victory that most people never recognize and yet the bedrock all goodness is built upon.

I was born to make people feel good when everything around them seemed just awful. Which, if you think about it, is what all good parents – and café owners – are meant to do.

He looked back at Lobot, and pointed at the screen, where Han Solo was once again risking Lando's ship, his precious, beautiful Millennium Falcon, for no reason he could figure. "If I ever do anything like that...shoot me." "No problem," Lobot said.

There was little he loved to dwell upon more than the thought of young Skywalker coming into herself, learning the powers that lay deep within her, an perhaps bringing to the galaxy a new age that she could not even hope to imagine.

One day, a death squad will find Mon Mothma and Cianne hiding in their shuttle in the radiation belt of a black hole. The shuttle’s engines will be nonfunctional, its fuel spent. Without scanners, they won’t notice the TIE fighters until too late. Within the decade, the rebellion Mon built will be erased from history and erased from consciousness. Soon after, even the Empire’s censors will begin to forget the past.

Seems Commander 110 finally came to his senses too, because then he says: "We don't need to see his identification." "Bless!" I almost yelled, but I kept it contained. "These are not the droids you're looking for," Old Guy says. And he was right. He was so right. It was like, of course they're not! 110 agreed and then Old Guy says he can go about his business, and I'm like Yes! Yes, Old Guy! Say that! And 110 agrees again! Word for word in fact! "Move along," this remarkable little geezer says. Commander 110 nods. "Move along." And then, because he's 110 and he can't help himself, he repeats it for good measure.

Officers were just like babies: When they needed something, it was always the most important thing in the world.

Anyone can fight, given a weapon and an enemy. Anyone can use a lightsaber, given due training or even good luck. But to stand and wait—to have so much patience and fortitude—that, Obi-Wan, is a greater achievement than you can know.

Lando gave his best smile, the very best one, the one he reserved for extremely special occasions. The smile that promised whatever the recipient might want or need—credits, friendship, protection, short-term or long-term love, the wonders of the galaxy itself—if only they would do what the owner of the smile wanted. The Calrissian Special.