This is writing. You cut out chunks of your own memories, rework them, bleed into them, breathe into the raw clay, and hope the creature lives.

You must learn to face the fact, always, that you choose to do what you do, and that everything you do affects not only you but others.

A voice speaks to each of us in the still silent places - a voice that tells us to stand, to have courage, to do what is right.

I had come to discover that "safe" was an illusion, a pretense that adults wrapped around their children- and sometimes themselves- to make the world seem comfortable. I had discovered that under that thin cover of let's-pretend, monsters and nightmares lay, and that not all of them came from places like the moonroads or the nightling cities. Some of the monsters were people we knew. People we thought we could trust.

This is writing. You cut out chunks of your own memories, rework them, bleed into them, breathe into the raw clay, and hope the creature lives.

I would rather be right and die than be wrong and kill.

Actions have consequences... first rule of life. And the second rule is this - you are the only one responsible for your own actions.