Some writers later, describing the events of that night and day, wrote that Wan'yen of the Altai had seen a spirit-dragon of the river and become afraid. Writers do that sort of thing. They like dragons in their tales.

Why did becoming accustomed to something have to render its pleasures stale.

Ice is for death and endings.

How we remember changes how we have lived. Time runs both ways. We make stories of our lives.

... everyone knew that all islands were worlds unto themselves, that to come to an island was to come to another world.

I will not say I am sorry, but I can tell you that I grieve.

We are the total of our longings.