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“That’s the Luidaeg, singing ‘Poor Unfortunate Souls.’ In a karaoke bar. In front of other people.”
I could stay strong, because someone else’s heart was at risk. I’ve always been better at being strong for other people than I am at being strong for myself. Maybe it’s the way I was raised—or maybe it’s the way I was made.
People are complicated. That’s the problem with people. It would be so much easier if they could all be put into easy little boxes and left there, never changing, never challenging the things I decided about them.
“Do you know where you come from?” “Um,” said Poppy. “There was Maeve, and there was some sad, and she wanted some happy where she could see it. So she cut some of the happy out of herself, and she made it into pretty stones that sparkled in the sun. All different stones, blue and red and green and silver. Only they weren’t stones, they were eggs, and when they hatched, they were pixies.”
“What I did, I did for the best of reasons. That doesn’t forgive it. If anything, that makes it worse, that a good man might become a villain thinking himself a hero in his heart.
while he was not a hero, he was perfectly willing to play the villain when he felt there was a need. I had a great deal of respect for his straightforward nature, and for his willingness to pick people up by the throat. It seemed efficient.
