A Theory of Dreaming

It takes strength, to feel so much. To feel so deeply.

My mind is never empty of you. Not in waking; not even in dreaming.

What a ruthless privilege it was, he thought, to love.

Let no one say that I am weak. I am fearful, and therefore brave. I am wounded, yet all the stronger for it.

If the soul of a nation requires an enemy, then it has no right to exist at all.

How do we survive when reality becomes too much to bear?

Thinking of her was always like this: a rush of fondness, and then a bolt of fear. Love poems never seemed to include this thread of terror. Was he uniquely ill-disposed to this sentiment, too uneasy, too anxious for the act of loving without reserve? Or was the object of his affection uniquely vulnerable?

When he had stood in the underwater palace and wished for the end to this story, he had wanted no epilogue, no addendum, no sequel. A blank page, upon which a new tale could be written.

It was all just too much," Effy said quietly. "I didn't think. I couldn't bear it for even one moment more." Preston nodded. His throat pulsed. Then he said "if it's too much, then let me carry it for you. Please".

Our belief in a world that is just and perfect gives us strength to survive in a world that is anything but.

Can one still cherish a love that ends in grief?

She both wanted and did not want to be held, to be touched, to be comforted. She was afraid of wanting becoming needing. And she was afraid, so terribly afraid, that if she needed him, it would be the moment that he slipped away.

Small-minded traditionalists always reject what they don't understand.

The past she carried with her did not have to be a heavy thing, and when she needed to rest, she could put it down.

Every author who appears to sit in a dark room alone is furnished by the light of those who came before.

The people of Llyr are afraid". Angharad said. "Our army has fallen and our sleepers have been put to their watery graves. Just this morning, the Llyrian Times published an article which asked how we will define ourselves, now that we have lost so much of what we believe makes us who we are. It asked who our new heroes will be. I say, these are our new heroes. The young students who are clever enough to ask questions, who are brave enough to venture into the dark corners of the world for answers, and who are strong enough to survive when the foundation of everything they know crumbles from beneath them. To Effy Sayre and Preston Heloury. To all who came before, and all who will come after.

It's alright Effy. Really. The fear doesn't have to break you. You deserve to live anyway.

No one survives this world alone.

If there is one great virtue of girlhood, it is the insulation of dreams. We are protected, as children, by our belief in the unreal.

How strange it is, to live so long in the company of shadows that, without them, one feels bereft and needful of the dark.

So runs this tale, like a stream into the sea, not to fade, but to change and to be free.

Dismally she realized that she had already gone from wishing to be exceptional to wishing to be invisible.

Whatever faults I might have - and I have plenty - just know that I think of you, always. My mind is never empty of you. Not in waking; not even in dreaming.

But perhaps that's how I know that I love you," he said at last. "Because it is simple. Because all the quibbling in my mind goes silent when I look into your eyes.

Why must it be true? Because we, who read, desire it to be. Our belief in a world that is just and perfect gives us strength to survive in a world that is anything but.

You may find yourself worshipping blindly at the altar of reason, just as the pious worship at the altar of their saints.

If the soul of a nation requires an enemy

Relationships were nooses and people deadweight: the romantics always ended up hanging from their hearts.

Here was a man who didn’t just disbelieve his own hype but took an active pleasure in making himself a fool for the world’s entertainment