“Please,” she said, “take the winter away. Go back to your mountains. Please.”
Frost in front of me…
“No. I am Winter. I cannot be anything else.”
“Then you cannot be human,” said Tiffany. “The last three lines are: ‘Strength enough to build a home, Time enough to hold a child. Love enough to break a heart.”
Balance… and it came quickly, out of nowhere, lifting her up inside.
The center of the seesaw does not move. It feels neither upness nor downness. It is balanced.
Balance… and his lips were like blue ice. She’d cry, later, for the Wintersmith who wanted to be human.
Balance… and the old kelda had once told her: “There’s a little bitty bit inside ye that willna melt and flow.”
Time to thaw.
She shut her eyes and kissed the Wintersmith…
…and drew down the sun.
Frost to fire.
Terry Pratchett, Wintersmith