Prophecies don’t simply come about of themselves, you know. They need a little helping along.
Another man might have taken vengeance in blood and fire, or made an end of himself. Regan is stronger than that. There’s a light shining in him, moving him forward: the light of freedom. That’s what draws all of us to follow, to take risks, to keep on figting when we see our comrades fall beside us. But there’s no light without shadow.
In the old tales, when people undertake quests, they find themselves fighting dragons or serpents or giant dogs. Or maybe a dark warrior of some kind, folk who are enemies from the start. But it’s far more frightening when someone seems friendly and good, and turns out to be different altogether. The odd and uncanny are not terrifying in themselves. The most disturbing thing is the ordinary turned strange. Things familiar and safe becoming not right.
It is a strange attitude, to view a woman merely as an object to be taken; to be so overwhelmed by the body’s cravings that a man must satisfy them even at such a cost.
Meanwhile, the great ash would rest where she lay, and mosses would creep over her trunk, and tiny creatures make their homes her dim hollows. Even in death she was a link in the great chain of the forest’s being.
It becomes easy,” Finbar said. “It’s in the training; the ability to see your enemy as something other than a real man. He is a lesser breed, defined by his beliefs – you learn to do with him what you will, and bend him to your purpose.
At some point, we’ll both have to risk telling the truth.
This was a familiar feeling, for there were many places in the great forest where you could drink in its energy, become one with its ancient heart. When you were in trouble, you could find your way in these places.
Hope fought hard to stay alive. Even when you thought it was beaten to nothing, burned to ashes, drowned deep, still it flickered away, waiting to be found again.
The person they’d locked up last summer was gone, and she wasn’t coming back.
I was learning the nature of magic; it seemed to work according to a strict set of rules. And yet, somehow, it never worked in quite the way you expected.
I often tell myself, there is no point in wishing certain things had not happened. We can’t change what has been, only do our best with what is to come.
Why should I change to please some man? If he doesn’t like me the way I am, then he can get some other girl for his wife.
Patterns could be broken; paths could be changed. All it took was courage.
He had always understood me better, without words. So I laid my hand on my heart, held it there for a moment, and then moved it over and touched my palm against his breast.
To return to that realm of shadows for your sweetheart’s sake, Clodagh, is a breathtaking act of selfless love. I think you are the only talisman he needs.
He used to say, God is everywhere. In the work of your hands; in the beating of a bird’s wings; in the roots of an oak and in the stones of the riverbed. In the rising of the sun. In the heart of a man. In the wonders we know, and those that are beyond our knowing.
A story could lead you into a different world for a while. It might be a world where a foolish youngest son could turn into a brave and clever hero, or a beaten young woman could end up as a wise leader of folk. And when the story was ended and that world was gone, you still had the idea of it inside you. Like a flame that didn’t go out even when the bad things rattled and swirled and screamed, and worse, oh, much worse, when they whispered and goaded and tormented.
There was never any question, not even in the darkest moment, that the hero would conquer both his enemies and his self-doubt.
I worked as fast as I could, and let my mind travel ahead only a certain distance, no further.