“Perhaps this was what Queens did. Perhaps they held their Kings in the darkness, deep within their castles and allowed them that moment of weakness they could never show to anyone else. Perhaps they gave strength to their Kings, because everyone else only took it from them.”
“A bard must know history so she does not repeat it. She tells the tales but is never part of them. She watches but remains above what she sees. She inspires passions in others and rules her own.”
“Loghain shook his head in disbelief. "Maker's breath, man, aren't you suppose to have some dignity? Somewhere?"
"Me? Dignity?"
"Being the supposed future King and such."
"I think Rowan took my dignity."
She snorted derisively, folding her arms. "There was nothing else worth having.”
“They howled again, and Loghain raise his voice even further. 'Your prince is not here! But when he returns to us, we shall hand to him his stolen throne! Here at the River Dane is where the Dragon Age begins, my friends! Today they will hear us roar!”
“Really? It's no wonder you nearly froze to death the way you spend all your energy moving your mouth.
Loghain Mac Tir”
“You are the light of my life and I believe in you.”
“Sometimes that which is most precious can be found where you would least expect to.”
“That's the claim. The Arl and the Prince, both killed at West Hill." she glanced at Maric, crooking one corner of her mouth in grim amusement. "Apparently your body was not distinguishable from those of regular Fereldan men and thus couldn't be found, according to the usurper."
"Well that's just rude.”
“Well, it’s no wonder you nearly managed to freeze to death the way you spend all your energy moving your mouth.”
“I fall off horses," he explained to Loghain with a sickly grin. "It's this thing I do.”
“... and she turned for the stairs as the sound of rain came, finally, scattered across the roof, a fall that now gave substance to the stilled beams of headlamps in the drive where those of flashlights rose and fell to the cadenced steps come back and round the range of yew and up the terrace and through the door to fall on broken glass and flee across the inkstained carpet, darting, climbing, caught fixed in niches, they scaled the walls and leaped the beams to skirt the hayloft.”
“Lamentarsi è una caratteristica innata della specie umana. Nel Secolo del Carbone la gente imprecava contro la macchina a vapore; in una commedia di Shakespeare un personaggio lamenta l'invenzione della polvere da sparo. Mille anni dopo ci si lamentava per la fabbricazione del cervello positronico.”
“We went back into the drawing room. The evening had passes pleasantly enough, heaven knows, but I was glad that they had gone and the house was silent once again. She must have had the same thought, for she stood a moment, looking around her in the drawing room, she said, 'I love the stillness of a room, after a party. The chairs are moved, the cushions disarranged, everything is there to show that people enjoyed themselves; and one comes back to the empty room happy that it's over, happy to relax and say, "Now we are alone again." Ambrose used to say to me in Florence that it was worth the tedium of visitors to experience the pleasure of their going, He was so right.”
“Corrupt ideas have miserable little fanatics who attempt to enforce their beliefs through intimidation and brutality…through faith.”
“Billy moved restlessly. "Seems like-seems like- towards night as if a body got kind o' lonesome for a woman person-like her." Billy indicated Margaret and then closed his eyes so tight his small face wrinkled.”
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