I've loved fairytales, folklore and mythology since I was a small child, and I think it was inevitable that they would influence my style and my development of stories.

This had been real: real in its flaws and uncertainties, real in its small triumphs, real in its compromises and understanding.

Liadan," he said, staring intently at the ground. "Yes," I whispered. "Don't wed that man Eamonn. Tell him, if he takes you, he's a dead." --Bran

What I do . . . the path I tread . . . it brings some choices that test me hard.

I should have realized, when Cathal kissed me in the hallway, that my response was the first raindrop heralding a storm.

The greatest tales, well told, awaken the fears and longings of the listeners. Each man hears a different story. Each is touched by it according to his inner self. The words go to the ear, but the true message travels straight to the spirit.

This is a long goodbye, yet not time enough. I have no aptitude for this. I cannot learn this. I would hold on, and hold on, until my hands clutch at emptiness.