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“One cannot grow without pain. One cannot improve without it. Suffering drives us to achieve great things.” The fingers of her good hand plucked and scrabbled uselessly at his fist. “Love is a fine cushion to rest upon, but only hate can make you a better person.
“Conscience is an excuse not to do what needs doing.
The people far prefer a leader who appears great, Bialoveld wrote, to one who is.
“The memories of our glories fade,” he whispered, “and rot away into half-arsed anecdotes, thin and unconvincing as some other bastard’s lies. The failures, the disappointments, the regrets, they stay raw as the moments they happened. A pretty girl’s smile, never acted on. A petty wrong we let another take the blame for. A nameless shoulder that knocked us in a crowd and left us stewing for days, for months. Forever.” He curled his lip. “This is the stuff the past is made of. The wretched moments that make us what we are.”
“You look as if you’ve dark thoughts in mind, my friend,” said Cosca. “Don’t seem the time for jokes.” The mercenary chuckled. “My old mentor Sazine once told me you should laugh every moment you live, for you’ll find it decidedly difficult afterwards.” “That so? And what became of him?” “Died of a rotten shoulder.” “Poor punchline.” “Well, if life’s a joke,” said Cosca, “it’s a black one.” “Best not to laugh, then, in case the joke’s on you.” “Or trim your sense of humour to match.” “You’d need a twisted sense of humour to make laughs o’ this.” Cosca scratched at his neck as he looked towards
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To the starving man, bread is beautiful. To the homeless man, a roof is beautiful. To the drunkard, wine is beautiful. Only those who want for nothing else need find beauty in a lump of rock.
Man’s got to be what he is, I reckon. Otherwise what is he? Just pretending, no? And who wants to spend all the time they’re given pretending to be what they ain’t?”
No one ever appreciates what he gets for nothing.
‘Things aren’t what they used to be’ is the rallying cry of small minds. When men say things used to be better, they invariably mean they were better for them, because they were young, and had all their hopes intact. The world is bound to look a darker place as you slide into the grave.”
It’s a crime, when you think about how little time we get, that a man should ever be bored. When you’re lying on your deathbed, I expect you regret those weeks wasted more than your worst mistakes.”
