Ice is for death and endings.

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

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

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

Fantasy is, at its best, the purest access to storytelling that we have. It universalizes a tale, it evokes wonder and timeless narrative power, it touches upon inner journeys, it illuminates our collective and individual pasts, throws a focus beam on the present day, and presages the dangers and promises of the future.

We are the total of our longings.

There are kinds of action, for good or ill, that lie so far outside the boundaries of normal behavior that they force us, in acknowledging that they have occurred, to restructure our own understanding of reality. We have to make room for them.