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

It is always difficult, even with the best will in the world, to look back a long way and see anything resembling the truth.

You'd never killed anyone. Then you had.

What mortal knew the way their fate line would run?

In this world, where we find ourselves, we need compassion more than anything, I think, or we are all alone.

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

Words were power, words tried to change you, to shape bridges of longing that no one could ever really cross.