The Broken Eye - Pg 713

   This is what it is to grow up. It is to live beyond the blind rush of passion, or hate, or green luxin, or battle juice, or battle juice. It is to see what must be done, and to do it, without feeling a great desire or a great hatred or a great love. It is to confront fear, naked. No armor of bombast or machismo. Just duty, and love for one's fellows. Not love felt, not the love that compelled action without thought, but love chosen deliberately. I am the best person to do this thing, it said, though I may die doing it.
   I will go, it said, with clear eyes and no passion, but it was love, love, love all the same.