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War has not yet come, but the waters have withdrawn to form the tidal wave, leaving the beaches and their secrets bare.
“You think I should not try to prevent the war?” Caesar asked. “Of course you should try, just don’t imagine you’ll succeed. There’s honor in urging the right course, even when the wrong is set. Many of my old friends are still called wise for their efforts to make peace with Troy. Fail well, as they did, and be ready to fight well once you have failed.”
I think all humans feel rage at our finitude when we see others read what we cannot.
The World’s Mom sighed, slumping like an oak bough, burdened with a child’s swing, when the child returns, grown up, and places the full weight of adulthood on the tired wood.
What is Caesar but a man so rich in power that he can afford to be distracted every instant of every day?
That is what we all want, to touch what someone touched, a special someone, different for each of us, whose story reached forward through history and touched us.
“War is a thing we make, a vast, momentous, horrible thing. Making destruction is still making something.”
“Mycroft, we both believe that humans can, with time and industry, do anything, but one thing humans can definitely do is throw old dreams away. You know how many people these days never even venture to the Moon: too dark, too frightening, too far.
It is not power that corrupts, but the belief that it is yours.
You were never strong enough to destroy this world to save your better one.
