It Can Be Hard To Write A

We Worship…the Powers That Speak To Our Souls, If It Seems They Do. We Do So Knowing There Is More To The World, And The Half-world, And Perhaps Worlds Beyond, Than We Can Grasp. We Always Knew That. We Can’t Even Stop Children From Dying, How Would We Presume To Understand The Truth Of Things? Behind Things? Does The Presence Of One Power Deny Another? [p. 176]

One Man Sees A Riselka: His Life Forks There. Two Men See A Riselka: One Of Them Shall Die. Three Men See A Riselka: One Is Blessed, One Forks, One Shall Die.

A Hard Truth: That Courage Can Be Without Meaning Or Impact, Need Not Be Rewarded, Or Even Known. The World Has Not Been Made In That Way. Perhaps, However, Within The Self There Might Come A Resonance, The Awareness Of Having Done Something Difficult, Of Having Done . . . Something.

... Everyone Knew That All Islands Were Worlds Unto Themselves, That To Come To An Island Was To Come To Another World.

Fantasy Is, At Its Best, The Purest Access To Storytelling That We Have. It Universalizes A Tale, It Evokes Wonder And Timeless Narrative Power, It Touches Upon Inner Journeys, It Illuminates Our Collective And Individual Pasts, Throws A Focus Beam On The Present Day, And Presages The Dangers And Promises Of The Future.