The Green Ember

You can choose what you believe, Shuffler, but you can’t change what’s true.

I regret many things I’ve done,” he said, “but most of all I regret those moments when I said to Fear, ‘You are my master.

The Green Ember burns; the seed of the New World smolders. Healing is on the horizon, but a fire comes first. Bear the flame.

All of life is a battle against fear. We fight it on one front, and it sneaks around to our flank.” He paused, looked kindly at her. “Yes, Father. I understand.” “I regret many things I’ve done,” he said, “but most of all I regret those moments when I said to Fear, ‘You are my master.

What do I always tell you? ‘ Not enough salt is an in-salt,’ and ‘Too much salt is an as-salt!

Growing up is terribly wonderful. But often it’s also wonderfully terrible.

If you aren’t angry about the wicked things happening in the world all around, then you don’t have a soul.” There

What is it, Father?” Picket asked as Mother tenderly took Jacks from him. “It’s only that, when you’re older, you hand out wisdom to your children like you know everything, but it is sometimes hard to follow your own advice.

My place beside you, my blood for yours, 'till the Green Ember rises, or the end of the world!

This is a place where people make and are made. You are what you do. Choose wisely, young Picket. Choose wisely, brave Heather. Understand?

Picket,” he said quietly, “stay angry. It’s okay if it’s at me, for now. If you aren’t angry about the wicked things happening in the world all around, then you don’t have a soul.

She was seeing the other side of the tragedy, the world that lived, for now, only in the hopeful hearts of those who, though not seeing, saw.

I’m not sure if it’ll be all right. But I’m glad we’re together.

Was Father getting sadder, or was she just getting old enough to see it?

How many times in the last two days had she believed she was at the end of her strength, only to somehow find more?

Good morning, Ladybug,” Helmer said, his voice a guttural rasp, as though the air he used to speak was passing through a rusty old gate. “Good morning … Wasp?” Picket said. “Ha,” Helmer chuckled. “I like that. But you will call me Master, child.” “Yes, Masterchild,” Picket said. “Well, obviously you have a deep, soul-level need for humility,

It’s called Starseek,” she said, “and this is the star.” “Is it a real star?” Picket asked, his head cocked sideways and his whiskers twitching. “No, little one,” Heather said, “a real star hangs in the sky at night, along with a million others. This is just a game.” “A game?” Picket said. “Maybe they’re all for games.

He had to be prepared for what Helmer might throw at him. And he realized that Helmer might actually throw things at him.

It’s only that, when you’re older, you hand out wisdom to your children like you know everything, but it is sometimes hard to follow your own advice.

The sunlight sparkled through the wind-bent boughs of trees, dancing in an ever-shifting pattern

You can choose what you believe, Shuffler, but you can't change what's true.

I dreamed I was riding on a blind cardinal’s back, and he kept flying into things.

We sing about it. We paint it. We make crutches and soups and have gardens and weddings and babies. This is a place out of time. A window into the past and the future world. We are heralds, you see, my dear, saying what will surely come. And we prepare with all our might, to be ready when once again we are free.

Heather, I think you are very brave. What you did today, out there in the storm, took courage. All of life is a battle against fear. We fight it on one front, and it sneaks around to our flank.” He paused, looked kindly at her. “Yes, Father. I understand.”“I regret many things I’ve done ,” he said, “but most of all I regret those moments when I said to Fear, ‘You are my master.

It sounds lovely,” Mrs. Weaver said. “I especially enjoyed the part where he kicked dirt in your eyes.

I waked up this morning from dreams about feets, sniffed big-time major breeze of life and hoped with all my hopes that this day might be filled with stinky feets to examine. It’s a dream coming truth.