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.

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

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

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.

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.

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.