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

The military preferred - invariably - those who could be readily defined, assigned roles, understood, and controlled.

It can be hard to write a skillfully entertaining fiction, but a great book wants to be more, and wants more from us.

What mortal knew the way their fate line would run?

We worship…the powers that speak to our souls, if it seems they do. We do so knowing there is more to the world, and the half-world, and perhaps worlds beyond, than we can grasp. We always knew that. We can’t even stop children from dying, how would we presume to understand the truth of things? Behind things? Does the presence of one power deny another? [p. 176]

What man would dare believe that all he planned might come to pass?

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