“Phoebe shook her head. ‘I said it to the Flower, I’ll say it again: There’s a solace to be found in sadness. And I understand why ye’d think ye deserve that dark. Easier to find refuge in drink, in rage, to say hell with it all and push everyone away. Because ye think that cold is easier to live with than the pain that could come if ye let the warmth back in, only to be burned again. But that’s the fire that lets us know we’re alive, Gabriel.’ “I shook my head, two pale shadows now rising at my back. “‘You can’t fix a broken blade, Phoebe.’ “‘But don’t ye see? We don’t get broken. We’re made
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