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“Well, of course I’m not sure,” Jonaton said crossly. “It’s magic. It has built-in fuckery.
“It matters if they’re functional. People can be any kind of weird as long as they aren’t harming anyone. Hells, that makes them victorious—that’s their truth, they get to live it.”
“Let’s have a roll call. Anyone who’s dead today, raise your hand, so he knows.”
Not enough of us get to tell those who had a hand in building us just how we feel about our pasts, while they’re still alive. It wounds the heart, but makes us more whole whenever we can, though. This physical world isn’t all there is, but while we have it, this is the one that counts. The words should be spoken.
When anyone is preoccupied only with staying alive, it is damned near impossible to embrace the fact that a better future is even possible. That’s why poverty is a form of suppression—it keeps the people without power from thinking too big.
Humans given no incentive to do more . . . generally will not.”
Whatever their origin story, an asshole was an asshole.
“Do what you can, do everything that you can, do it to the best of your ability, and leave the rest to fate. Or the gods. Or random luck.
