Acacia: The War with the Mein

Revenge is the easiest of emotions to understand and to manipulate.

She would never be caught unprepared again, she swore to herself. She would never trust. Never love. Never put faith in other human beings again. She would learn all she could of the shape and substance of the world, and she would find a way to survive in it.

She realized that she had naïvely believed that the workings of the world revolved around her and her family. Never before had she acknowledged that somebody else’s life might alter hers.

You've got to understand that the world's full of men who are little better than animals.... Problem is that a man is different from an animal. In the quiet afterward we know when we've done wrong.

I sleep lightly and tread to keep my head out of the sea of dreams.

She realized that the world was a dance of a million fates. In this dance she was but a single soul.

I believe that if you speak from your heart each time you open your mouth, you cannot go wrong.

She was a nightmare of beauty and menace living right there above them, a being part raptor, part human, part divine. She knew without question that she could sweep down on them and inflict upon all of them a terrible vengeance if she wished. She had the capacity for violence within her, residing beside her heart.

Respect flows two ways and can mean as much to the giver as to the one receiving.

Imagine, they said, living an existence where the words out of your mouth changed the very fabric of the world around you.

Again he thought of his own losses, and he wondered why it was that the things a person had lost— or might lose— defined him more than the things he yet possessed.

They fed him a diet made up entirely of knowledge.

Who can explain just how he became the person he is? It does not happen this day or that one. It is a gradual evolution that happens largely unheralded. He simply was who he now was.

She said, A king is the best and worst of men. Of course. Of course.

When she spread her wings and leaped screeching into the air she had not the slightest doubt that every hand below her would stretch to catch her. And if one could leap from a height with no fear of falling, could one not be said to possess the secret of flight? Just like a bird, just like a god.

She sat, rediscovering the fullness of her first tongue in one long submersion. Again and again she would pause on a word Melio uttered. She would roll it around in her mind, feeling the contours of it. At times her mouth gaped open, her lips moving as if she were drinking in his words instead of breathing.

Very little of what he learned of people’s actions began or ended with either the noble ideals or the fiendish wickedness he had been taught lay behind all great struggles. There was something comforting in this.