Status Updates From The Urth of the New Sun (Th...

You can’t order the waves to be silent... They are coming, and they are bitter with salt.

What is perceived is dictated by the instrument. If you had other eyes, or another mind, you would see all things otherwise.

The present, when we leave it before us, becomes the future once more.

The autochthons say that their cattle can speak but do not, knowing that to speak is to call up demons, all our words being only curses in the tongue of the empyrean.

How strange it was that they should have been so brave when they faced a horror, but such cowards when confronted by the palinode of fate.

If you wish to be as the Increate is, I question whether you can do it by acting as the Increate does not.

My life has held many sorrows and triumphs, but few pleasures outside the simple ones of love and sleep, clean air and good food, the things anyone may know. Among the greatest I count the village hetman’s expression when he saw his daughter’s arm.

I was the man I would have been without those (and perhaps other) wounds, and thus it was that my face was the face of that strange being -- for what being can be stranger than oneself, or act more inexplicably?

"Yours is a race of pawns. You move forward only, unless we move you back to begin the game again. But not all the pieces on the board are pawns."

Thus every common man who brings a son into the world must feel himself responsible for his woman's labor and perhaps for her death, and with reason fears that the world will in the end condemn him with a million tongues.

I thought the original tetralogy was a mind screw, but it had nothing on this.

Pain brought me to myself. Perhaps that is what pain is for, or perhaps it is only the chain forged to bind us to the eternal present, forged in a smithy we can but guess at, by a smith we do not know.