“Tim looked my way again. "And how to you think you will be judged, on the day the trumpet sounds? You who have caused so much pain, so many deaths.""I have been true to Him. I have stood up for His name when all around me ---""For His name," Tim said. "But what of what He taught? What of the innocents you have killed in His name?""I've only known one miraculous innocent," Father Peter said."And you've spent your lifetimes trying to atone for your betrayal, to protect his memory. A memory that doesn't need your protection.""You're not going to change my mind.""I know," Tim said. His voice was sad.”

“A wise man once said that the best definition of insanity was performing the same action over and over again, expecting different results."Father Peter stopped smiling. "The same could be said of you. What makes you so sure you're right? And so sure I'm wrong?""The difference is that I made a mistake once, out of ignorance," Tim said. "Everything I've done since then has been to try to make amends.""To earn forgiveness.""To protect the innocents." Tim smiled, "And yes, to earn forgiveness.”

“My first question is- do you have a name?"A name? Yes.""Ah!" said the wolf. It wrote several extensive notes. "And what is that name?" "George.""I see," said the wolf. "And how long have you been George?""How long? As in, how long have I been alive?" "oh, were you here in some way before you were alive?" asked the wolf, interested."I...don't really know," said George. " I don't think so." "So you don't know if you were here? Or if you were here before your George-time? Is it possible for you to be here, bu not know it?""My what time? no, I mean, I was born, and then they just named me George." "So you are not George," said the wolf. George is just a name. A word. A propulsion of air modified by the flexing of throat parts." "Well, I am George, but...yes. Yes, and...no." "Is it possible that you became George at a later time, having been originally named that thing?" asked the wolf. " What if the naming had been different, would you still be George?" "I...yes?" "Really?" breathed the wolf in awe. "This is all so confusing." Yet he seemed very pleased with George's answers. " I don't know how you all do it. It seems so marvelously complex to simply...be.”

“How dare you! What is your name? I shall make it a sin to be spoken.”The braveness of his chuckle and grin made me step back. “Garrett. My name is Garrett and please make my name a sin to speak. Maybe that way I won’t have people like you screaming out for people like me; for people like you are so ghastly and in need of saving too many times.” Lucy to Garrett from my Steampunk YA Romance book I have started.”

“The trouble with chronic pain is that it is so easy to become accustomed to it, both mentally and physically. At first it's absolutely agonizing; it's the only thing you think about, like a rock in your shoe that rubs your foot raw with every step. Then the constant rubbing, the pain and the limp all become part of the status quo, the occasional stabbing pain just a reminder.You are so set to endure, hunched against it - and when it starts to ease, you don't really notice, until the absence washes over you like a balm.”

“And that's what we'll do every day. If you or your friends spray-paint obscenities on our walls, we'll scrub them off, and the people will come. if you break our windows, we'll fix them, and the people will come. If you hurt us, we'll wash off the blood, slap on some bandages and the people will come...any wound you inflict, we'll stitch up. We're not going to stop, no matter what you do. This work is too important. Too many lives are at stake.”

“Let me tell you something," Marc said. "I'm done with you. I've lost everything because of you." He got to his feet and waved his arms around in the air. "I have no family, no friends-""You have us," Sera said in a quiet voice."-no life." Marc looked at Sera and shook his head. "I don't want you. I want my old life back.”