Voice is not just the sound that comes from your throat, but the feelings that come from your words.

Because in a small dark room, a broken child lies on a filthy bed and stares up at a high window. He waits for me, too. And I—I who have failed at everything and have failed everyone—I must not, I cannot, I will not fail him.

Come on you raver, you seer of visions, come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner, and shine.

Meet me where the sky touches the sea. Wait for me where the world begins.

But words are more powerful than anything.

For the first time, I saw what was in his heart, and I wondered if he might ever want to look deep enough to see mine.

It is hope, not despair, that undoes us all.