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Memories inhabit the minds of men. They are the myths we use to explain ourselves to ourselves: who we are, where we come from, where we go—just as I tell this story to you. We embroider our stories to explain, to excuse, to justify.
With all interests represented, politics becomes a fairer sport, if only because everyone is equally corrupt.”
Breaking too often with common trade practice meant isolation. Isolation led to hunger, to unrest, and oftentimes to a change in leadership.
broken. I was damaged. It was all true, and it was also all excuses. An escape not from my prison, but from my responsibility.
It is a painful thing to abandon all excuse. To accept that all responsibility is yours alone. To know that to forge through, or fail, is simply what is.
We are all as dogs before pain. We all, in the end, are of a shared weaving—and we all howl when we die.
A whipped dog takes what love it can.
We are all flotsam in the maelstrom. To swim at all is triumph.
Soppros once said that only that which was not man could be trusted.
He called it Firmos. Firmos was reliable. The hearts of wolves and stone bears and shadow cats and rabbits and deer could be trusted. The kiss of the wind upon whitebark and catredanto pine was always true, and never false.
