You never stop being a parent, Adam, no matter how old or wise your child becomes—you'll see. - Robert Charles Wilson

The afternoon is too tempting to be denied. It isn’t Paradise here, or even close, but the mimosa is in bloom and the air from the sea is cool and pleasant. On days like this I think of poor old Magnus Stepney’s evolving Green God, harking us all up to Eden. The Green God’s voice is faint enough that few of us hear it clearly, and that’s our tragedy, I suppose, as a species—but I hear it very distinctly just now. It asks me to step into the sunshine, and I mean to do its bidding.

Fortune had done him few favors in the past, and he wasn’t sure he trusted it.

If I am an agnostic, Calyxa, it’s because I'm also a realist.