One man sees a riselka: his life forks there.  Two men see a riselka: one of them shall die.  Three men see a riselka: one is blessed, one forks, one shall die. One woman sees a riselka: her path comes clear to her.  Two women see a riselka: one of them shall bear a child.  Three women see a riselka: one is blessed, one is clear, one shall bear a child.

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

Irritation for some men was their response to strain.

We salvage what we can, what truly matters to us, even at the gates of despair.

There was some sadness in how that could happen, Tai thought: falling out of love with something that had shaped you. Or even people who had? But if you didn't change at least a little, where were the passages of a life? Didn't learning, changing, sometimes mean letting go of what had once been seen as true?

After a while, you start to realize that you should write a book you would want to read. I try to write a book I would enjoy.

But if you couldn't do everything, did that mean you did nothing?