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Against a broken heart, even absurdity falters.”’ ‘“Because words fall away.”’ Fingers fluttered in the glow. ‘“A dialogue of silence.”’ ‘“That deafens.”’
“Courting is the art of growing like mould on the one you want.”’
‘Wisdom is not yet dead,’ said Bolirium. ‘Did I not suggest this to you all?’ ‘Amidst a host of idiotic assertions, perhaps you did.’ ‘Varandas, there must be a balance in the world. On one side a morsel of weighty wisdom, offsetting a gastric avalanche of brainless stupidity. Is that not the way of things?’ ‘But Bolirium, a drop of perfume cannot defeat a heap of shit.’ ‘That depends, Varandas, on where you put your nose.’ Gedoran said, ‘Be sure to inform us, Varandas, when you finally smell something sweet.’ ‘Don’t hold your breath, Gedoran.’
To fit into a new thing you had to leave the old thing behind, and that wasn’t as easy as it sounded, since it meant accepting that the old thing was dead, for ever gone, no matter where you tried standing or how stubbornly you held fast.
Choices fall away, without you even noticing, until there are very few left, and you realize that you are nothing but what you are.’
‘They do, Adjunct. Shall I expound on love and romance?’ ‘I’d rather you—’ ‘It’s actually a mathematical exercise,’ he said. ‘Romance is the negotiation of possibilities, towards that elusive prize called love. There, you see? I wager you expected me to go on and on, didn’t you? But I’m done. Done discussing love and romance.’ ‘Your description lacks something, Banaschar.’
‘Anyone who has mastered a weapon – truly mastered it – is a humble man or woman.
How can one give so freely of love to another, when the final outcome is one of betrayal? When one must leave the other – to be the betrayer who dies, to be the betrayed left alive. How can this be an even exchange, with death waiting at the end?
all honest observation ends up sounding critical, is it the honesty you then reject, or the act of observation?’
‘He was not a modest man. Contemplating suicide, he summoned a dragon.’
Sure, Brys, I remember that bone collector. He got it all wrong. With that secret he discovered, he had a choice. Despair or wonder. Between the two, which would you choose? Me, I look at the idiocy and futility of existence and how can I not wonder?
There is nothing more dangerous than a man without a sense of humour.
We needed to walk away. Sooner or later, no matter how much you put into what you’ve made, you have to turn and walk away.’
