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The world has always had magic in it, Christopher. Aren’t you holding a griffin in your arms? The magic grew with the Earth’s first tree; from the tree it flowed into the soil, into the air, and into the water.
sometimes, if you are among the very lucky, a spark of understanding cuts like lightning across the space between two people. It’s a defibrillator for the heart. And it toughens you. It nourishes you. And the word we’ve chosen for it (which is an insufficient word for being so abruptly upended in a new and finer place) is friendship. (He would never find it again, that kind of friendship. But once is enough. You need it only once—so that you may know what your human heart is capable of.)
stop expecting life to get easier. It never does; that is not where its goodness lies. Or”—and she looked at Irian, at Nighthand—“do not wait for people to be faultless before you allow yourself to adore them. Adore them anyway. Such things are worth more than riddles.”
Together, longing to turn back, knowing they must go forward, they stepped inside.
I need you, when you get back, to tell them: the brutality is terrible. And yes: the chaos is very great. But tell them: greater than the world’s chaos are its miracles.”
“That is why great power must never reside in only one person. It must be shared.” Her rough voice was rougher than before. “It must be spread, among as many good women and men as can be found; not because it is kind or polite or fair, but because it is the only way to beat back against horror.”
The jaculus landed on his hand and dipped its tiny head to his skin in a bow. Then it bit him, hard, on the pad of the thumb, and raked its claws down the back of his hand. “Ow! Hey! What was that for?” “To leave a scar. So you don’t ever ask yourself, Was it real? It was as real as you are, and you are very real.”
His love for Mal had been the finest part of him—he knew that already. It had made him brave. It is what is meant by miracles. And though she was gone, the love burned on.
at its best, I think children’s books are where human strangeness unveils itself, and our desires are laid out, and our bone-deep jokes are told.
