And you may blame me for your feelings, but it isn't fair to blame me for how you've chosen to behave.

Dear Brigan, she thought to herself. People want incongruous, impossible things. Horses do, too.

She would thump them both, and she would apologize to neither.

It was a strange monster, for beneath its exterior it was frightened and sickened by its own violence. It chastised itself for its savagery. And sometimes it had no heart for violence and rebelled against it utterly.

At least her last words to him had been words of love. But she wished she'd told him just how much she loved him. How much she had to thank him for, how many good things he had done. She hadn't told him nearly enough.

She knew he was angry, but she couldn't stop laughing. "Forgive me, Po. I was only trying to get your attention." "And I suppose it never occurs to you to start small. If I told you my roof needed rebuilding, you'd start by knocking down the house.

It has been a hard lesson to learn, that greatness requires suffering.