Marion Zimmer Bradley · 884 pages
Rating: (169.4K votes)
“There is no such thing as a true tale. Truth has many faces and the truth is like to the old road to Avalon; it depends on your own will, and your own thoughts, whither the road will take you.”
“Love is the only prayer I know.”
“All the tears women shed, they leave no mark on the world...”
“By what men think, we create the world around us, daily new.”
“And I must believe that man has the power to know the right, to choose between good and evil and know that his choice has made a difference...”
“The older I grow the more I become certain that it makes no difference what words we use to tell the same truths.”
“There is no sorrow like the memory of love and the knowledge that it is gone forever”
“Never name the well from which you will not drink.”
“And so, perhaps, the truth winds somewhere between the road to Glastonbury, Isle of the Priests, and the road to Avalon, lost forever in the mists of the Summer Sea.”
“I have called on the Goddess and found her within myself”
“For this is the thing the priests do not know, with their One God and One Truth; that there is no such thing as a true tale. Truth has many faces and the truth is like the old road to Avalon; it depends on your own will, and your own thoughts, whither the road will take you, and whether, at the end, you arrive at the Holy Isle of Eternity or among the priests with their bells and their death and their Satan and hell and damnation...but perhaps I am unjust even to them. Even the Lady of the Lake, who hated a priest's robe as she would have hated a poisonous viper, and with good cause too, chid me once for speaking evil of the God.
'For all the Gods are one god,' she said to me then, as she had said many times before, and as I have said to my own novices many times, and as every priestess who comes after me will say again, 'and all the Goddesses are one Goddess, and their is only one Initiator. And to every man his own truth, and the God within.'
And so, perhaps, the truth winds somewhere between the road to Glastonbury, Isle of the Priests, and the road to Avalon, lost forever in the mists of the Summer Sea.
But this is my truth, I who am Morgaine tell you these things, Morgaine who was in later days called Morgan le Fay.”
“I think too many people presume to read the divine Scriptures and fall into such terrors as this,' said Patricius sternly. 'Those who presume on their learning will learn, I trust, to listen to their priests for the true interpretations.'
The Merlin smiled gently. 'I cannot join you in that wish, brother. I am dedicated to the belief that it is God's will that all men should strive for wisdom in themselves, not look to it from some other. Babes, perhaps, must have their food chewed for them by a nurse, but men may drink and eat of wisdom for themselves.”
“What wise God would consign a man to Hell for ignorance, instead of teaching him better in the afterlife?”
“There are ignorant priests and ignorant people, who are all too ready to cry sorcery if a woman is only a little wiser than they are!”
“My love for you is a prayer, she thought. Love is the only prayer I know.”
“But this is my truth; I who am Morgaine tell you these things, Morgaine who was in later days called Morgan le Fay.”
“To know you are ignorant is the beginning of wisdom,”
“Beware what you speak,' said the Merlin very softly, 'for indeed the words we speak make shadows of what is to come, and by speaking them we bring them to pass, my king.”
“The Goddess does not shower her gifts on those who reject them.”
“Lancelot: Morgaine, Morgaine - kinswoman, I have never seen you weep.
Morgaine: Are you like so many men, afraid of a woman's tears? (...)
Lancelot: No (...) it makes them seem so much more real, so much more vulnerable - women who never weep frighten me, because I know they are stronger than I, and I am always a little afraid of what they will do.”
“The Goddess has a fourth face. It is secret, and you should prey, as I do, as I do Igraine, that Morgause will never wear that face.”
“Arthur, their young king, like a hero out of legend.”
“I am dedicated to the belief that it is God's will that all men should strive for wisdom in themselves, not look to it from some other. Babes, perhaps, must have their food chewed for them by a nurse, but men may drink and eat of wisdom for themselves.”
“Avalon will always be there for all men to find if they can seek the way thither, throughout all the ages past the ages. If they cannot find the way to Avalon, it is a sign, perhaps, that they are not ready." - Kevin”
“Morgaine laughed and mocked, but when it was a real trouble, no one could be kinder.”
“And as men believe, so their world goes." - Merlin”
“I should know, for I am Morgaine le Fay, priestess of the Isle of Avalon, where the ancient religion of the Mother Goddess is born.”
“I have neither talent or taste for kingship, cousin. I am a warrior, and to dwell always in one place and live at court would weary me to death!”
“Don't confuse a kid whining for a treat with the argument of a rigorous, logical mind," he had said, as logical as ever.”
“Hey. What is it that famous person said? 'It'll all work out in the end, and if it doesn't, that means it's not the end yet'?”
“Perforation! Shout it out! The deliberate punctuated weakening of paperand cardboard so that it will tear along an intended path, leaving a row of fine-haired white pills or tuftlets on each new edge! It is a staggering conception, showing an age-transforming feel for the unique properties of pulped-wood fiber. Yet do we have national holidays to celebrate its development? Are festschrift volumes published honoring the dead greats in the field? People watch the news every night like robots thinking they are learning about their lives, never paying attention to the far more immediate developments that arrive unreported, on the zip-lock perforated top of the ice cream carton, in reply coupons bound in magazines and on the "Please Return This Portion" edging of bill stubs, on sheets of postage stamps and sheets of Publishers Clearing House magazine stamps, on paper towels, in rolls of plastic bags for produce at the supermarket, in strips of hanging file-folder labels. The lines dividing one year from another in your past are perforated, and the mental sensation of detaching a period of your life for closer scrutiny resembles the reluctant guided tearing of a perforated seam.”
“I snapped off a knobby twig from a shrub at my heel and pulled it back into a messy bun.”
“The thing is, though, every time I think I’m just gonna give up—that I can’t possibly do it, that I’m just going to curl up alone somewhere and waste away, well, I always keep trying. I mean, for some reason I manage to make it through another day and then another day after that.”
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