Hogarth: I know you feel bad about the deer, but it's not your fault. Things die. That's part of life. It's bad to kill, but it's not bad to die.
Iron Giant: You die?
Hogarth: Well, yes, someday.
Iron Giant: I die?
Hogarth: I don't know. You're made of metal, but you have feelings, and you think about things, and that means you have a soul. And souls don't die.
Iron Giant: Soul?
Hogarth: Mom says it's something inside of all good things, and that it goes on forever and ever.
[Hogarth leaves. The Iron Giant lays back to look at the stars.]
Iron Giant: Souls don't die.
-The Iron Giant.
My dog, Prints died on New Year's Eve. Old friend, I was not ready to let you go quite yet. Prepared, perhaps, but ready, never.
Some day, our souls will romp in the field behind the house down to the river. And you'll stick your head down gopher holes and bark at birds. And I'll laugh at you and run after you until we're both out of breath and we collapse in the tall grass and roll around and get sweaty and dirty, and we'll both feel like we couldn't get any happier or we'd bust wide open. And until that day, I will be lonely for you.
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