Gui

“Akiva."
"Akiva." It pleased her to say it. She may have been the one whose name meant music, but his sounded like it. Saying it made her want to sing it, to lean out a window and call him home. To whisper it in the dark.”
― Laini Taylor, Daughter of Smoke & Bone

“Did you become a Christian in your nunnery?' I asked her.

'Of course not.' she said scornfully.

'They didn't mind?'

'I gave them silver.'

'Then they didn't mind.' I said.

'I don't think any Dane is a real Christian.' she told me.

'Not even your brother?'

'We have many gods,' she said, 'and the Christian god is just another one. I'm sure that's what Guthred thinks. What's the Christian god's name? A nun did tell me, but I've forgotten.'

'Jehovah.'

There you are, then. Odin, Thor and Jehovah. Does he have a wife?'

'No.'

'Poor Jehovah.' she said.”
― Bernard Cornwell, Lords of the North

“Because it is human nature to believe the first story heard, and not its rebuttal.”
― Katherine Longshore, Gilt

“When every link to the outside world is severed, time has no meaning. It ceases to exist other than as a dull memory, a vague recollection of what a minute used to be, an hour, a day. Sealed up tight so far beneath the ground, every single second was stretched out almost to infinity—each one a vast and empty abyss where time used to reign, an ageless aeon barren of significance and consequence.
When every scrap of light and sound has been taken away, reality has no meaning. It too ceases to exist, for what is reality other than the cumulation of senses—images witnessed by our own eyes and the noises that enter through our ears? But when all those senses are starved, then the real world fades away like the last frantic gasp of a television program when the set is switched off.
And when reality goes, sanity has no reason. How can your ability to behave in a normal and rational way still exist when nothing normal or rational remains? As soon as reality breaks, as soon as we are separated from the physical world, the cracks begin to appear in our minds. And through them seeps the madness that has always been there, flowing into your skull like a liquid nightmare.”
― Alexander Gordon Smith, Solitary