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Just because the wolf pack fears your sling doesn’t mean you stop carrying stones.
Fight the battles you can win, run from those you can’t. Good words to keep you alive.
there are some things that, no matter how foolish, no matter how much you know you’re going to regret it, you choose to do anyway. Because it’s the only option you got.
a knife may not be a longsword but the edge will cut you all the same.
“It’s how my cards fell,” I said. “I just play the hand.”
“When you realise the mountain you’ve been climbing is just a heap of shit, the fall doesn’t feel so far.”
It’s not the loud and ostentatious fighter you fear, it’s the man who bides his time, waits for his opening.
Real power shows itself through the disregard one has for those that defy it.
“Do you ever wish you were different?” “I wish everything was different.”
“What does anybody truly want in life? There is only one currency worth trading in. Control. Power. The farmers try to tame the earth, bend it to their will. The nobility bend the peasants, and in turn are bent to the will of princes. All bow before the Nameless, and even they wrestle against the Deep Kings. And for what? So that they can tell the peasants how to wall their fields and grow their beans? We all desire to control the world around us.
It would be pleasant to be able to believe what I was saying once in a while. Lies, lies, and more lies, all compounded into some great pretence. The Misery might try to deceive us, but we also do a damn good job of deceiving ourselves. My eyes burned. Told myself it was just the dust. Lies upon lies upon lies.
It is the way of the world that good people try to do the right thing for the wrong people’s wrong reasons.
“Ideas do not succumb to the knife so easily.
We’re born, we run and we die, and Death always wins the race in the end.
Give a lie enough time, and maybe the lie takes over the life. Our masks were our real faces now.
The world is a cruel mother, a matron of darkness, selfishness, greed, and misery. For most, their time suckling at her breast is naught but a scramble through stinging, tearing briars before a naked, shameful collapse as the flesh gives out. And yet in the bright eyes of every newborn, there lies a spark, a potential for goodness, the possibility of a life worth living. That spark deserves its chance. And though most of them will turn out to be as worthless as the parents who sired them, while the cruelty of the earth will tell them to release their innocence and join in the drawing of
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“The heart is black, the heart is cold, only a child could be so bold. The heart is dark, the night comes soon.” “Only a child can reach the moon,”
All things turn to dust when the years have passed, but we never think to see that turning in our own lifetime.
The great mistake of man is to believe that other men can live up to the ideals that we set them.
In the end, we’re nothing but the impression we leave behind, and I’d rather die screaming and defiant than sink quietly into defeat.
Hold the Range. Hold at all costs. Hold to the last man.”
Some men are born to charm ladies and spread their irresponsible seed across the land. Some exist to create the great works of art that inspire dreams and drive creativity for generations. Others are born to till the fields, put bread on the table, and raise their sons to till the fields, put bread on the table, raise sons of their own. I was born to end lives.
