Love is both wondrous and yet full of peril. Love is a gateway through which hatred – disguised and unrecognized – can pass.
Beware the wooden horse, Agamemnon King, Conqueror, for it will roar to the skies on wings of thunder and herald the death of nations.
A man needs many things in his life to make it bearable. A good woman. Sons and daughters. Comradeship. Warmth. Food and shelter. But above all these things, he needs to be able to know that he is a man.
I know the difference between heroes and cowards. You are a hero. You believe me?’ ‘I don’t feel like a hero,’ Xander admitted. Odysseus tapped the cheekbone under his right eye. ‘This eye is magical, Xander. It is never wrong. Now, I ask again, do you believe me?’ ‘Yes. Yes, of course.’ ‘Then tell me what you are.’ ‘I am a hero.’ ‘Good. When doubt comes, as it always does, remember those words. Say them to yourself. And I will see you again in the spring, if the gods will it.
A man is only as strong as that which makes him angry.
Who do you think you are?′ Asiron asked, with a dry humourless laugh. ‘I’ll tell you who I am,’ answered Parmenion, the words of Tamis echoing in his mind. ‘I am Parmenion, the Death of Nations.
Are you the Deathwalker?’ called the man. ‘Yes.’ ‘You are old and fat. It pleases me.’ ‘Good! Remember that when next we meet, for I have marked you, Loudmouth, and my axe knows the name of your spirit. Now, what is your message?
Love was what mattered. Love of one for one. The touching of hands, the touching of hearts. The warmth of belonging, the joy of sharing. There would always be tyrants. Man seemed incapable of existing without them. For without tyrants there would be no heroes. And man could not live without heroes. Renya.
The truth is that every invention leads men to say: can I use it to kill, to main, to terrify?
Less of a Galahad than a Lancelot, thought Archer. A flawed knight in a flawed world, unstable yet unyielding.
Any good that I may do, let me do it now, for I may not pass this way again.
We are not made for life at all, old horse. It is made for us. We live it. We leave it.
The truth? What the Hell is the truth? We’re born, we live and we die. Everything else is just shades of opinion.
This was the only place in all the world for the last of the old heroes: Druss the Legend, standing with the last hopes of the Drenai on the battlements of the greatest fortress ever built, waiting for the largest army in the world. Where else would he be?
Someone, who when the whole world turns against you, is still standing by your side.
Did you take lessons in stupidity, or does it come naturally?
It will not go out,’ said Keeva, putting her hand on Ustarte’s shoulder. ‘He is a hero. My uncle told me that heroes have special souls that are blessed by the Source. He was a wise man, my uncle.
It is baffling to me why so many people find it difficult to say, “I was wrong.” The words, when spoken with repentance, always turn away wrath. But those who cling to their absolute lightness, despite any evidence to the contrary, will always arouse anger in their comrades or superiors.
The battle between good and evil is circular. Good wins, evil wins, good again.
Do not think of tomorrow. Enjoy the now, for it is all any of us ever have.
Each of us here believes in the concept of honor: that it is man’s duty to do that which is right and just, that might alone is not enough.