Kushiel's Chosen

Why is there ever this perverse cruelty in humankind, that makes us hurt most those we love best?

All paths are present, always... and we can but choose among them.

Your dreaming self seeks to tell you something your waking ears will not hear

Let the warriors clamor after gods of blood and thunder; love is hard, harder than steel and thrice as cruel.

The pain of the flesh is naught to that of the heart

If you thought better of me, you would not be so surprised

And for a price, I will pretend absolutely nothing.

There are patterns which emerge in one's life, circling and returning anew, an endless variation of a theme

I can see patterns in events, and behaviors; in mathematics, I follow slower

I wish sometimes that the gods would either choose better, or make their wishes clearer

Well, I was living it, but a shared dream half-lived is a hollow thing

To recongnize that the treachery of one member of a house does not taint all born within it

My lord. It is too much, and not enough

Stupid to speak of blame when the wills of the immortals are involved.

Battle for the sake of honor may be a fine thing for bards to sing of, but it is no way to preserve one's homeland

But slight mistakes accumulate, and grow to gross errors if unchecked.

It is not everyday that one learns an entire militia has sworn unbeknownest to obey you

Grief heals ... unshed tears fester like a canker in the soul.

One must gauge one's trust carefully.

Spontaneity is the province of youth

The harp sounds at each passing breeze, but that does not mean the tune is masterfully played.

in the arts of covertcy, it is death to second-guess oneself.

They are fools, who reckon Elua a soft god, fit only for the worship of starry-eyed lovers. Let the warriors clamor after gods of blood and thunder; love is hard, harder than steel and thrice as cruel. It is as inexorable as the tides, and life and death alike follow in it's wake.

In love, howsoever it is manifest, we are greater than the sum of our parts.

Le importava, le importava davvero di me, e a quell'idea non riuscivo a smettere di ridere, avendo trovato il mio inutile trionfo nella stordita follia del dolore. Anche se la foschia rossa di Kushiel mi velava la vista, anche se le fitte che provavo alla testa erano terribili, i miei pensieri erano chiari. L'equilibrio dei poteri era mutato, rendendoci, per una volta, pari.