He looked from the book to his own hand that held it. Whose hand, darkened and scarred beneath an alien sun? Whose hand? The way that can be gone is not the eternal Way. The name … He could not remember the name; he would not read it. In a dream he had read these words, in a long sleep, a death, a dream. The name that can be named is not the eternal Name. And with that the dream rose up overwhelming him like a wave rising, and broke. He was Falk, and he was Ramarren. He was the fool and the wise man: one man twice born.
