Royal Assassin

The man who must brag for himself knows that no one else will

The fight isn't over until you win.

He shook his head pityingly. “This, more than anything else, is what I have never understood about your people. You can roll dice, and understand that the whole game may hinge on one turn of a die. You deal out cards, and say that all a man's fortune for the night may turn upon one hand. But a man's whole life, you sniff at, and say, what, this naught of a human, this fisherman, this carpenter, this thief, this cook, why, what can they do in the great wide world? And so you putter and sputter your lives away, like candles burning in a draft.” “Not all men are destined for greatness,” I reminded him. “Are you sure, Fitz? Are you sure? What good is a life lived as if it made no difference at all to the great life of the world? A sadder thing I cannot imagine. Why should not a mother say to herself, if I raise this child aright, if I love and care for her, she shall live a life that brings joy to those about her, and thus I have changed the world? Why should not the farmer that plants a seed say to his neighbor, this seed I plant today will feed someone, and that is how I change the world today?” “This is philosophy, Fool. I have never had time to study such things.” “No, Fitz, this is life. And no one has time not to think of such things. Each creature in the world should consider this thing, every moment of the heart's beating. Otherwise, what is the point of arising each day?

Thinking is not always...comforting. It is always good, but not always comforting.

Stop thinking of what you intend to do. Stop thinking of what you have just done. Then, stop thinking that you have stopped thinking of those things. Then you will find the Now, the time that stretches eternal, and is really the only time there is.

Wolves have no kings.

Come, hunt with me, the invitation whispers in my heart. Leave the pain behind and let your life be your own again. There is a place where all time is now, and the choices are simple and always your own. Wolves have no kings.

Men of passion and vision are often seen as mad.

No man is so dangerous as the man who cannot decide what he fears.

The fight isn't over until you win it, Fitz. That's all you have to remember. No matter what the other man says.

One can only walk so far from one's true self before the bond either snaps, or pulls one back.

To finally confront the worst there is, to look it squarely in the face and say, "I know you. You have hurt me, almost to death, but still I live. And I will go on living.

I have heard it called a dance, I have heard it called a battle. Some men speak of it with a knowing laugh, some with a sneer. I have heard the study market women chuckling over it like hens clucking over bread crumbs; I have been approached by bawds who spoke their wares as boldly as peddlers hawking fresh fish. For myself, I think some things are beyond words. The color blue can only be experienced, as can the scent of jasmine or the sound of a flute. The curve of a warm bared shoulder, the uniquely feminine softness of a breast, the startled sound one makes when all barriers suddenly yield, the perfume of her throat, the taste of her skin are all but parts, and sweet as they may be, they do not embody the whole. A thousand such details still would not illustrate it.

Justice. There's a thing we shall ever thirst after, and ever be parched. No. We content ourselves with law.

The exercise for centering oneself is a simple one. Stop thinking of what you intend to do. Stop thinking of what you have just done. Then stop thinking that you have stopped thinking of those things. Then you will find the now. The time that stretches eternal, and is really the only time there is. Then in that place, you will finally have time to be yourself.

I wondered if there was any way to live amongst other people and refuse to be harnessed by their expectations and dependencies.

I told you it was foolish. But feelings do not have to be wise. Feelings just are.

Our own ambitions and tasks that we set for ourselves, the framework we attempt to impose upon the world, is no more than a shadow of a tree cast across the snow. It will change as the sun moves, be swallowed in the night, sway with the wind, and when the smooth snow vanishes, it will lie distorted upon the uneven earth. But the tree continues to be. Do you understand that?

You make no sense! You went somewhere to discover your place in history? How can that be? History is what is done and behind us.”     He shook his head, slowly this time. “History is what we do in our lives. We create it as we go along.” He smiled enigmatically. “The future is another kind of history.

If I had a dog that was sick as often as you are, I'd put it down," he observed kindly.

It is an odd language, yours. You speak of passing time as in the Mountains we speak of passing wind. As if it were a thing to be gotten rid of.

It was possible to be homesick for a time, and to be lonely for the only other person who could recall it.

It is like being two foreigners, trapped in a land we have come to, unable to return to our own, and having only each other to confirm the reality of the place we once lived.

It’s not the kind of work a man does that says he can be proud or not. It’s how he does it.

History is what we do in our lives. We create it as we go along.’ He smiled enigmatically. ‘The future is another kind of history.

King Shrewd is expecting me, rather he isn't expecting me, and that is precisely why I must go to him now.

Some things may be learned from words on a page, but some skills are learned first by a man’s hands and heart, and later by his head.

The separate parts of my life became like beads and I the string that ran through them all. I believe if I had ever paused to consider the intricacy of all I did to keep those parts separate, I would have found it impossible. But I was young then, much younger than I suspected, and somehow I found the energy and time to do and be it all.