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

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

I have always argued, in a good novel, interesting things happen to interesting people.

It was different, though, knowing something in your thoughts and then hearing it confirmed, made real, planted in the world like a tree

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

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]

It is always difficult, even with the best will in the world, to look back a long way and see anything resembling the truth.