She seemed fragile like a moonflower – destined to bloom for a single lovely night, and then to fade and fall.

There is no good or evil, save in the way you see the world. There is no dark or light save in your own.

Breath of the winds; dancing flame; peace of the earth; song of the waves.

My feet will tread soft as a deer in the forest. My mind will be clear as water from the sacred well. My heart will be strong as a great oak. My spirit will spread an eagle's wings, and fly forth.

There is no truth on this island of yours. Rather, there are as many truths as there are stars in the sky; and every one of them different.

Death, of course, should not be feared, but awaited with certain wonder. To die was to step across a threshold into a new world, unknown, unimaginable.

I had grown up. I had learned that being a woman was knowing when to stand firm and when to compromise. I had learned to laugh and weep; I had learned that I was weak as well as strong. I had learned to love. I was no longer a rigid, upright tree that would not flex and bow, even though the gale threatened to snap it in two; I was the willow that bends and shivers and sways, and yet remains strong.