Battle for the sake of honor may be a fine thing for bards to sing of, but it is no way to preserve one’s homeland.
My lord. It is too much, and not enough.
Yes my lord, but questions are dangerous, for they have answers.
Nothing spoils idle pleasure like too much awareness.
To have a traitor for an ally is to have an enemy in waiting.
Surely if we knew what bitterness fate held in store, we would shrink back in fear and let the cup of life pass us by untasted.
Only insofar as you enjoy being sorry, my dear, which, while it is a considerable amount, occurs only after the fact, thus making it a singularly ineffective deterrent, yes?
If I had to fall from Cassiel’s grace, at least I know it took a courtesan worthy of Kings to do it.
For this too I learned, that a storyteller’s tale may end, but history goes on always. These events, so distant in legend, play a part in shaping the very events we witness about us, each and every day.
Garner knowledge, by any means possible.
I would that I could have stopped time and preserved that day forever. It was a perfect day. There was the shadow of sorrow, yes. It would always be there. But that was the nature of life. The bright mirror and the dark, reflecting one another. And today there was so much brightness.
It is not wise to meddle with D’Angelines in matters of love.
It’s funny how despair can soon become an old companion.
This is the secret that none dares tell who fights for a cause. Dying, we are all alike.
Pain redeems all. It is the awareness of life, a reminder of death.
Pain obliterates everything else. In pain, there is only the eternal present.
Are you a minor character in my tale, or am I a lesser figure in yours?
There is as much deception in noise as there is in silence.
Love is hard, harder than steel and thrice as cruel. It is inexorable as the tides, and life and death alike follow in its wake.
And Kushiel sends no punishment that we are not fit to bear.