The pain of the flesh is naught to that of the heart.
If you thought better of me, you would not be so surprised.
It is my observations, though, that happiness limits the amount of suffering one is willing to inflict upon others.
All exiles carry a map within them that points the way homeward.
Soon never comes soon enough to a young child.
There’s more to clothing than just adornment. It does more than merely change how the world perceives us. It changes how we perceive ourselves.
There are patterns which emerge in one’s life, circling and returning anew, an endless variation of a theme.
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.