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

By things so achingly small are lives measured and marred.

We worship…the powers that speak to our souls, if it seems they do. We do so knowing there is more to the world, and the half-world, and perhaps worlds beyond, than we can grasp. We always knew that. We can’t even stop children from dying, how would we presume to understand the truth of things? Behind things? Does the presence of one power deny another? [p. 176]

A hand fought best when it made a fist.

Writing is never, ever easy but I wake up every morning grateful for the gift of being able to do this.

What mortal knew the way their fate line would run?

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