Yes, Bastille. I keep trying to get killed because it's inconvenient for you.

Those candle flames were like the lives of men. So fragile. So deadly. Left alone, they lit and warmed. Let run rampant, they would destroy the very things they were meant to illuminate. Embryonic bonfires, each bearing a seed of destruction so potent it could tumble cities and dash kings to their knees.

To age truly was to suffer the ultimate treason, that of one's body against oneself.

In the end, all men die. How you lived will be far more important to the Almighty than what you accomplished.

Honestly, for an evil god of darkness, he certainly can be dull.

In the end, I worry that my arrogance shall destroy us all.

People see in stories what they’re looking for, my young friend.