How many tears must we weep? How loud must we cry? How many farewells must we say, for the dead to hear goodbye?
But we are sailors—served on the Endeavor.Are you, now? the ship’s master asked skeptically. Let me see yer hands.The master examined Hadrian’s palms, looking over the various calluses and rough place...
You're not going to charge us for the tower, I hope, Hadrian said. But if you are, it was Royce's fault and should come out of his share.
What's the advantage of fear or the benefit of regret or the bonus of granting misery a foothold even if death is embracing you? My old abbot used to say, Life is only precious if you wish it to be. I...
Usually to make something truly great, you need to start from scratch, Royce remembered him saying. You need to break everything down, strip away the impurities, and it takes great heat to do that, bu...
Tesh continued to wade forward through hip-deep water and neck-high fear.
Plotting was the antithesis of doing. The man who sits and schemes continues to sit while others achieve.
Of course, but certainly our lord could wait until morning. That’s why he makes new ones every day.
And if you can't trust an ancient talking tree, what was the point of having one?
Wouldn't matter, Suri said. Regardless where you're born, the world has a way of finding you and ruining everything.
They came with hardly a warning, Moya said. Hundreds pouring over the chasm, both beautiful and terrible, wearing shining gold and shimmering blue. With them came whirlwinds and giants. Nothing can st...
The two of them just sort of clicked, like old friends who’d just met. Friends-at-first-sight, if there was such a thing.
The thing about the old is that we never change so much as the young. We slip in degrees, adding rings like trees--a new wrinkle here, a shade less color there, but the young transform like caterpilla...
Losing leaves a bitter taste that lingers long after the sweetness of victory has been forgotten.
Life is all about conflict. The pursuit of happiness—that’s life, not the achievement. It’s all about the journey, my friend.
I didn’t want you to leave.
If you can’t trust an ancient talking tree, what was the point of having one?
What length will a mother go to on behalf of her child? How long is time? What is the depth of love? —
More valuable than gold, more precious than life, is mercy bestowed upon he who hast not known its soft kiss
It was easier to do nothing than to brave the unknown