The Crystal Cave

The gods only go with you if you put yourself in their path. And that takes courage.

I think there is only one. Oh, there are gods everywhere, in the hollow hills, in the wind and the sea, in the very grass we walk on and the air we breathe, and in the bloodstained shadows where men like Belasius wait for them. But I believe there must be one who is God Himself, like the great sea, and all the rest of us, small gods and men and all, like rivers, we all come to Him in the end.

But I have noticed this about ambitious men, or men in power, that they fear even the slightest and least likely threat to it.

Thinking and planning is one side of life; doing is another. A man cannot be doing all the time.

Then she saw me watching her. For perhaps two seconds our eyes met and held. I knew then why the ancients armed the cruellest god with arrows; I felt the shock of it right through my body.

Someone's got to look after the devil himself, as long as he wears clothes and needs food and drink.

The gods only go with you if you put yourself in their path. And that takes courage. I

—¿Dios? ¿Dios? Te he oído hablar de muchos dioses. Si te refieres a Mitra... —Mitra, Apolo, Arturo, Cristo, llámalo como quieras —dije—. ¿Qué importa el nombre que le den los hombres? Es la misma luz, y los hombres deben vivir con esta luz o morir. Yo sólo sé que Dios es la fuente de toda la luz que ilumina la tierra y que su designio está en todo el mundo y pasa por cada hombre como un gran río que no podemos detener ni desviar; solo podemos beber de él mientras vivimos y encomendar nuestros cuerpos en él cuando morimos.

Used every man according to his capacity.

the god does not speak to those who have no time to listen.

sat, chin on hand, thinking, my eyes on the bright distance. I

A round moon stood low in the sky, pale still, and smudged with shadow, and thin at one edge like a worn coin. There was a scatter of small stars, with here and there the shepherd stars herding them, and across from the moon one great star alone, burning white. The shadows were long and soft on the seeding grasses. A

Knowledge, I suppose, blocked the gates of vision.

A robin lighted on a blackthorn at my elbow, and began to sing. The sound came high and sweet and uncaring through all the noise of battle. To this day, whenever I think of the battle for Kaerconan, it brings to mind a robin’s song, mingled with the croaking of the ravens.