Moonblood

I'll never tell you to stop loving. You see, I believe in hopeless love. Oh yes. I believe in it with all my heart, though you may discount the heart of an old nanny like me. For real love brings pain. Real love means sacrifices and hurts and all the thousand shocks of life. But it also means beauty, true beauty.

There is a moment that comes into every life when the right word, the right look even, could change the shape of the world forever. The wrong one could as well, though the resulting shape would be different. No word at all, however, and the moment slips by, and things remain unsaid that perhaps should have been said, perhaps shouldn't, and no one can ever know for sure.

I'll choose an ugly truth over your pretty lies any day.

Regret and repentance do not always walk hand in hand.

Our Prince does not give his servants hopeless tasks. They sometimes do not follow an expected path, but they are never hopeless.

You don't understand," Lionheart said, turning his back on the cat. "No one does." "While I am a firm believer in the uniqueness of each person," said the cat, "the motications of the spirit are as predictable as the seasons.

Lionheart glared at the cat, who smiled back. "Can you read my mind?" "No." The cat sniffed and seemed to smile. "I can smell it. Which is made the easier for the stink your thoughts give off. All this self-pity and moping! *I did what I had to do.* Lick my whiskers, you did. Be a man, and face your actions for what they were!

What, suddenly I am a figure from an ancient bit of nursery nonsense?" He lifted a forepaw and began chewing his toes, the picture of dismissive indifference. "And the next egg you come across you'll ask, 'Tell me, sir, what were you doing up on that wall anyway?'" "Are you ashamed to answer?" "I am ashamed of nothing. I am a cat." The cat gracefully placed his paw next to the other, sitting as prim as a perfect statue.

Fear was not well-known to Sir Eanrin. He generally found it got in the way, so he bypassed the emotion entirely.

I’m worthless,” Lionheart says. “I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t redeem my honor.” “You never can,” the Prince replies. He takes Lionheart by the shoulders and forces him to sit up, to face him. “But do you think my grace insufficient to forgive you?

There is a moment that comes into every life when the right word, the right look even, could change the shape of the world forever. The wrong one could as well, though the resulting shape would be different. No word at all, however, and the moment slips by, and things remain unsaid that perhaps should have been said, perhaps shouldn’t, and no one can ever know for sure.

No, something far more mysterious has taken Felix. He has heard the unicorn." Like a performer, the cat gave a dramatic pause. "Um," said Lionheart. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, have you?" "No, sorry." "Mortals," growled the cat.

For nothing you have done could equal the evil that I myself have committed against all who loved and trusted me. No regret you ever know will compare to the despair I knew when I recognized what I had done. And no forgiveness you may yet receive will ever outshine the grace that was extended to me, the vilest of all my Master’s servants. “No, Lionheart, I can never hate you, for in truth, you and I are alike, and if our deeds were measured against one another, no one could say yours were the worse.