Shattered (The Iron Druid Chronicles, #7)

by Kevin Hearne

This is reassuring to me. Amidst all the fancy plastic and unnatural materials of the modern world, some things still endure. Goat shenanigans are still fecking funny.

though there is much in this time that confuses and worries me, I have to admit that I like werewolves. They’re hearty and loyal and believe in the many benefits of recreational arse-kicking.

And then, struck by inspiration, I say, “Tell me about snow,” and their faces light up with joy. They take me outside, eager to share the beauty they have discovered, like children explaining butterflies to adults. They say things like, “Snow is the form to which all water aspires, for only as snow is it unique and at rest,”

it is by our loves and hatreds that we are shaped and manipulated.

I am loved by Atticus and Orlaith and by Gaia herself, and with such nourishment as that, I cannot choose but blossom.

As large and wondrous as my world is now, it will forever be a world without my parents.

Have you not noticed, Siodhachan, that for all we lose and regret in the long course of history, there is always something new to love?”

“An ignoranus,” Manannan explains, “is someone who’s both a halfwit and an arsehole.”

my free advice is to always find something to love and to make you laugh—something

Neither of us had any business seeing a sunrise in this age. The gifts that Gaia gives are boundless.