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As a soldier, Kandri has developed another useful schism: That way lies death can coexist in his mind with That way I must go.
Only the dead are free from pain. Those who hide from pain end up hiding from life, cowering behind the strong, until even their own kin have no use for them. They wither, like grass under a rock. They betray their own souls.”
In the long storm of arrows, one at last knows your name.
Everyone’s perfect love is lost. Fortunately, imperfect love comes at need, and with care and dedication grows into something fine, if unimagined.
