“No, he thought. I didn’t die. Not yet. He realized, with surprise, that he was happy. Happiness wasn’t what he had thought it was: it was like the dragonfly, a fragile winged thing that arrived, unsought and unexpected, and graced the work of living. You couldn’t hunt it down; you couldn’t hold it. But sometimes, in a blessed moment, it was there.It was good to be alive.”

− Alison Croggon −