A Monster Calls

by Patrick Ness

Sometimes people need to lie to themselves most of all.

The justifications of men who kill should always be heard with skepticism,

There is not always a good guy. Nor is there always a bad one. Most people are somewhere in between.

Many things that are true feel like a cheat. Kingdoms get the princes they deserve, farmers’ daughters die for no reason, and sometimes witches merit saving. Quite often, actually. You’d be surprised.

Belief is half of all healing. Belief in the cure, belief in the future that awaits.

Conor remembered what the monster had said. Belief is half of healing.

“The green things of this world are just wondrous, aren’t they?” his mother went on. “We work so hard to get rid of them when sometimes they’re the very thing that saves us.”

You were merely wishing for the end of pain, the monster said. Your own pain. An end to how it isolated you. It is the most human wish of all.

Because humans are complicated beasts, the monster said. How can a queen be both a good witch and a bad witch? How can a prince be a murderer and a saviour? How can an apothecary be evil-tempered but right-thinking? How can a parson be wrong-thinking but good-hearted? How can invisible men make themselves more lonely by being seen?

Your mind will believe comforting lies while also knowing the painful truths that make those lies necessary. And your mind will punish you for believing both.

You do not write your life with words, the monster said. You write it with actions. What you think is not important. It is only important what you do.