There was some sadness in how that could happen, falling out of love with something that had shaped you. Or even people who had.

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?

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

You'd never killed anyone. Then you had.

Dave hung up. And unplugged the phone. With a fierce and bitter pain he stared at it, watching how, over and over again, it didn't ring.

Some writers later, describing the events of that night and day, wrote that Wan'yen of the Altai had seen a spirit-dragon of the river and become afraid. Writers do that sort of thing. They like dragons in their tales.

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