I Will Never, Ever Drink Whiskey Again.

Oh, I've A Love, A True, True Love, Who Waits Upon Yon Shore... And If My Love Won't Be My Love, Then I Will Live No More.

There Is No Greater Power On This Earth Than Story.” Will Paced The Length Of The Room. “people Think Boundaries And Borders Build Nations. Nonsense—words Do. Beliefs, Declarations, Constitutions—words. Stories. Myths. Lies. Promises. History.” Will Grabbed The Sheaf Of Newspaper Clippings He Kept In A Stack On His Desk. “this, And These”—he Gestured To The Library’s Teeming Shelves—“they’re A Testament To The Country’s Rich Supernatural History.

I Run After Her, Not Really Giving Chase. I’m Running Because I Can, Because I Must. Because I Want To See How Far I Can Go Before I Have To Stop.

Will Was Making A Speech, Something About Having Been Young And Careless Once, The Sort Of Thing Old-timers Said When They Issued A Deathblow, As If They Thought Their Sanctimonious Ramblings Disguised As Empathy Would Be Welcomed, But Evie Was Only Half Listening.

That's What Living In Their World Is-a Big Lie. An Illusion Where Everyone Looks The Other Way And Pretends That Nothing Unpleasant Exists At All, No Goblins Of The Dark, No Ghosts Of The Soul.