He that feareth is a slave, were he never so rich, were he never so powerful. But he that is without fear is king of all the world.
Eric Rucker EddisonThe black arrowed swoop of the moment swung high into the unceilinged future, ten, fifty, sixty years, may be: then, past seeing, up to that warmthless unconsidered mock-time, when nothing shall be left but the memorial that fits all (except, if there be, the most unhappiest) of human kind: I was not, I lived and loved, I am not.
Eric Rucker EddisonThe harvest of this world is to the resolute, and he that is infirm of purpose is ground betwixt the upper and the nether millstone
Eric Rucker Eddison