“It seems to me them that sees an evil thing unfold and don't do nothin' to prevent it, are just as bad as them that does the evil.”
“all the gods are the same unknowable mystery, just as each face of a jewel strikes light in a different direction”
“...There is a tale, as old as the Ancient Ones themselves, that one would arise who has that gift: to sing all the chantments, the high notes and the low, the swift rhythms and the slow. And this person would be more powerful than even the Ancient Ones were, as powerful as the gods themselves.”
“Calwyn stopped in her tracks, and her song faltered on her lips. For the space of a heartbeat she thought she must be dreaming; the steady chantment she’d been singing without pause since dawn jerked almost into silence.”
“Calwyn felt suddenly very solemn and serious. Usually during lessons and lectures she felt only a fierce desire to be elsewhere or an irresistible urge to fidget, but now she sat as still as a statue, sensing that what Marna was about to tell her was more important, and certainly more interesting, than herb lore or weaving patterns.”
“Multiple species, with multiple viewpoints and racial philosophies, simply cannot hold power together for long. The dominant voice must certainly be wise enough to adopt ideas and methods from its allies and member peoples. But there must be a dominant voice, or there is only chaos. In this part of the galaxy, that voice is the Empire."
-Thrawn”
“Where was the excitement it dependability? Where was the spontaneity in a predictable world? He could offer her an eternity of challenges and passion, of quiet, tender moments stolen in the depths of riotous flames and ravaging storms - tranquillity amidst the chaos.”
“Hope Was but a timid friend;
She sat without the grated den,
Watching how my fate would tend,
Even as selfish-hearted men.
She was cruel in her fear;
Through the bars one dreary day,
I looked out to see her there,
And she turned her face away!
Like a false guard, false watch keeping,
Still, in strife, she whispered peace;
She would sing while I was weeping;
If I listened, she would cease.
False she was, and unrelenting;
When my last joys strewed the ground,
Even Sorrow saw, repenting,
Those sad relics scattered round;
Hope, whose whisper would have given
Balm to all my frenzied pain,
Stretched her wings, and soared to heaven,
Went, and ne'er returned again!”
“As history has also shown, especially in the twentieth century, one of the first things an ideologue will do after achieving absolute power is kill.”
“في السجن تصبح الذاكرة خليلاً وعدواً في آن واحد”
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