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“You blast me open and then You stand back and watch My feeble attempts To deal with myself. Where do I turn In my now desperate need for love? You are not there. There is no one else to turn to For I have made you my Everything. And in my exhaustion From my desperate moments, I slip into myself And there I find God waiting for me To love Him to love me to love you Because you are the matchmaker. I thought He was leading me to you But, surprise surprise, You were leading me to Him.”

“You blink, you lose that time for ever. You can’t even be sure how long that blink lasted. A moment, a thousand years. You can’t even know for sure that what you see now is the same as what you saw before. You can’t. You think it is. You tell yourself that, convince yourself of that. Just a continuation of everything you knew before. What you see is still there. That’s what you tell yourself. That’s the game of reassurance your mind plays. To keep things sane. But think on that one blink—you’ve all known it—when all that you thought was real suddenly changes. From one side of the blink to the other side. It comes with bad news. It comes with soul-plummeting horror and grief. How long was that blink? Gods below, it was fucking eternity.”

“You bomb ISIL. You're not trying to bomb innocent people. And that requires intelligence and confidence in our military to be able to develop the kinds of targets that we need. We're already doing Special Forces, who are going to help us gather that intelligence and help advise and assist and train local forces so that they can go after ISIL in areas like Raqqah and Mosul.”

“You both gain and lose when you get married. You gain a partner who will work with you (if you're marrying a Christian)…But you lose the ability to do everything on your own, do only what you want to do, eat only what you want to eat, sleep in if you don't want to get up, watch only the TV programs you want to see, quit a job if you don't like it, move to another town if you prefer, or join the circus. In short, you lose the ability to be selfish without paying a horrible price.”

“You both passed out,” Percy said. “I don’t know why, but Ella told me not to worry about it. She said you were…sharing?” “Sharing,” Ella agreed. She crouched in the stern, preening her wing feathers with her teeth, which didn’t look like a very effective form of personal hygiene. She spit out some red fluff. “Sharing is good. No more blackouts. Biggest American blackout, August 14, 2003. Hazel shared. No more blackouts.” Percy scratched his head. “Yeah…we’ve been having conversations like that all night. I still don’t know what she’s talking about.”

“You boys know what tropism is, it's what makes a plant grow toward the light. Everything aspires to the light. You don't have to chase down a fly to get rid of it - you just darken the room, leave a crack of light in a window, and out he goes. Works every time. We all have that instinct, that aspiration. Science can't dim that. All science can do is turn out the false lights so the true light can get us home.”