Weariness, sometimes more than anything else, can bring an end to war.

Writing is never, ever easy but I wake up every morning grateful for the gift of being able to do this.

We are all shaped by where we grow up, though that shaping takes different forms. I dont think theres any doubt that coming of age in Winnipeg both opened my eyes and made me hungry - if I can subvert all claims to be a real writer by mixing metaphors like that.

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

It was different, though, knowing something in your thoughts and then hearing it confirmed, made real, planted in the world like a tree

We are the total of our longings.

What mortal knew the way their fate line would run?