I Carried Recipes In My Head Like

Children Are Knives, My Mother Once Said. They Don’t Mean To, But They Cut. And Yet We Cling To Them, Don’t We, We Clasp Them Until The Blood Flows.

And So Nat Stood Up And Joined The Group, And Followed, And Watched, And Awaited His Chance As The Light Of Chaos Lit The Plain And Gods And Demons Marched To War.

A Few Hundred Years Ago There Were No Differences Between Magic And Medicine.

It Isn't Just A Village. The Houses Aren't Just Places To Live. Everything Belongs To Everybody. Everyone Belongs To Everyone Else. Even A Single Person Can Make A Difference.

Somehow The Anticipation Of Pain Can Be Even More Troubling, More A Misery Than The Pain Itself.