But Sons Are A Different Matter To

Who The Heck Is Don Quick-oats?

Centuries Of Fighting, And For What? I Say. "today It Ends. I Can't Live In Fear Any Longer. I've Cursed This Power. I've Both Enjoyed And Misused It. And I've Hidden It Away. Now I Must Try To Wield It Correctly, To Marry It To A Purpose And Hope That Is Enough.

There Was Something About The Island That Made The Girls Forget Who They Had Been. All Those Rules And Shalt Nots. They Were No Longer Waiting For Some Arbitrary Grade. They Were No Longer Performing. Waiting. Hoping. They Were Becoming. They Were.

All The Small, Simple, Conscious Acts Of Living A Sudden Defense Against The Dying We Do Every Day.

In Each Of Us Lie Good And Bad, Light And Dark, Art And Pain, Choice And Regret, Cruelty And Sacrifice. We’re Each Of Us Our Own Chiaroscuro, Our Own Bit Of Illusion Fighting To Emerge Into Something Solid, Something Real. We’ve Got To Forgive Ourselves That. I Must Remember To Forgive Myself. Because There Is A Lot Of Grey To Work With. No One Can Live In The Light All The Time.