Being a child is such a shining gift, yet we don't know how precious it is until it's worn out and gone away.

I have been writing now for over a week. I find it cleansing, refreshing; it is good for me.” (p.531)

We had given it a name, a substance, and somehow, in doing that, we had condemned ourselves.

No one, not even lovers, are truly psychic, and everyone flounders around each other, misunderstanding, misinterpreting, sending out confusing signals.

If life is a battle, then my inner scars are medals for valor, for swiftness, for courage, for passion. Evil is the dark-haired brother of Good; they walk hand in hand—always.

The Gelaming regarded themselves as a force for good, and in many ways they were, but they were also inexorable and their compassion could often feel like oppression.

There is a point when facing the unknown stops being a longed-for adventure and becomes a terrifying reality.