The Blackthorn Key

Tom raised his eyebrows. “Master Benedict keeps cannon fuse?” “We use it to light things from far away,” I said. “You know,” Tom said, “things you have to light from far away probably shouldn’t be lit at all.

It is never the tool that decides. It's the hands-and the heart-of the one who wields it.

THIS IS MADNESS,” TOM HISSED. "You said that already,” I whispered. “And yet, here we are, still doing it. So, if you don’t mind: This is madness.

Do you have a spare bear's crotch in the back?" Tom clutched his cheeks and moaned.

Jesus, in Your mercy, please protect fools like us. Amen.

Estaba solo. Por primera vez desde que lo encontré, estaba solo. No podía hablar, no podía respirar. Lo único que hacía era sollozar. La desesperación me tragó, como si fuera un demonio. Aullaba en mi cabeza, me aplastaba el pecho, me clavaba las garras en el alma. Ven, decía. Aquí reina la paz. Quería irme, quería morir.

They'll be waiting for you to fail. But don’t doubt yourself, Christopher. The measure of a man has nothing to do with where he comes from.

I had no idea where it went. On the other hand, “where” was “elsewhere,” which had to be better than “here.