Dispel Illusion (Impossible Times, #3)

by Mark Lawrence

Years crawl by but once they get behind you in a big old stack, it’s amazing how they seem to have done it in the blink of an eye.

I think a lot of us dream about a life we know we’ll never have, but we hold it out there as a light to follow, even so.

Perhaps it would be the same even if I lived to be eighty. Perhaps it’s the same for everyone, no matter how many years they’re trailing behind them. Always the child standing there wearing an old man’s clothes, an old skin hanging from old bones, and wondering where the days went, remembering how marvellous it had been to fritter away so many slow and sunny days. And wanting more.

The stories of our lives don’t behave themselves; they don’t have clear beginnings, and even death isn’t a clear end. We just do what we can, we take what kindness and joy we find along the way, we ride the rapids as best we’re able.