Light will blind us in time, but what we learn in the dark can see us through.
Some said the original evil was the vacuum caused by the Fairy Queen Lurline leaving us alone here. When goodness removes itself, the space it occupies corrodes and becomes evil and maybe slpits apart and multiplies. So every evil thing is a sign of the absence of deity
The wickedness of men is that their power breeds stupidity and blindness.
We live in our tales of ourselves, she thought, and ignore as best we can the contradictions, and the lapses, and the abrasions of plot against our mortal souls.
It's been a long rocky life, with plenty of possibility but too much human ugliness.
We only have babies when we're young enough not to know how grim life turns out.
To read, even in the half-dark, is also to call the lost forward.
There were people everywhere but no one was mine, and I was no one's.
She's sent the crows out to blind the guests coming for dinner!" What?" She's BLINDING THE GUESTS COMING FOR DINNER!" Well, that's one way to avoid having to dust, I suppose.
I never use the words HUMANIST or HUMANITARIAN, as it seems to me that to be human is to be capable of the most heinous crimes in nature.
Always the bridesmaid , never the bride." Always the godfather, never the god".
What had survived - maybe all that had survived of Trism - was Liir's sense of him. A catalog of impressions that arose from time to time, unbidden and often upsetting. From the sandy smell of his sandy hair to the locked grip of his muscles as they had wrestled in sensuous aggression - unwelcome nostalgia. Trism lived in Liir's heart like a full suit of clothes in a wardrobe, dress habillards maybe, hollow and real at once. The involuntary memory of the best of Trism's glinting virtues sometimes kicked up unquietable spasms of longing.
I may not know how to fly but I know how to read, and that's almost the same thing.
When I write a book, I write very cleanly from page one to the last page. I hardly ever write out of sequence.
In the end, all disguises must drop.
Don't wish,"said Rain, "don't start. Wishing only...
But his face had that hollow look, as if there was something gone... you know that look. The inward focus. Distantly attentive to the home you're missing, or the someone you're missing. That look that a bird has when it turns it dry reptilian eye on you. That look that doesn't see you because the mind is filled up with someone it would rather see.
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