Sometimes we do not hear the Whisperer even at her loudest because she speaks in our own voice, the one we most often discount.

How am I supposed to save the universe with all this noise?!

So rage, proud Power: fail again! And see my blood teach Death to die!

But the trouble with sainthood these days is the robe-and-halo imagery that gets stuck onto it." Carl got that brooding look again. "People forget that robes were street clothes once... and still are, in a lot of places. And halos are to that fierce air of innocence what speech balloons in comics are to the sound of the voice itself. Shorthand. But most people just see an old symbol and don't bother looking behind it for the meaning. Sainthood starts to look old-fashioned, unattainable... even repellent. Actually, you can see it all around, once you learn to spot it.

Dear Artificer, I’ve blown my quanta and gone to the Good Place!

But even in your world it’s a byword. Men will fight bravely and be heroes, but for last-ditch defense against any odds… get a Mother.

Footsteps in the snow suggest where you have been, point to where you were going: but when they suddenly vanish, never dismiss the possibility of flight.