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

Ice is for death and endings.

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 didn't stop to talk with creatures from one's nightmares.

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

A hard truth: that courage can be without meaning or impact, need not be rewarded, or even known. The world has not been made in that way. Perhaps, however, within the self there might come a resonance, the awareness of having done something difficult, of having done . . . something.

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.