It was solitude, but it was solitude that wasn't lonely. Solitude that could sort things out. And he hadn't had that in ages.
We are the choices we make. And have to make. We aren’t anything else.
Sometimes witches merit saving. Quite often, actually. You'd be surprised.
What a sad thing men are. Can’t do nothing good without being so weak we have to mess it up. Can’t build something up without tearing it down.
Knowledge is dangerous." ~pg 53
We have to lie to ourselves to live. Otherwise, we'd go crazy.