I wish sometimes that the gods would either choose better, or make their wishes clearer
Joscelin, is love supposed to make you feel like youโre sick and dying, and mad enough to hit someone and drunk with joy, and your heartโs a boulder n your chest trying to burst into a thousand pieces all at once?โ โMm-hmm.โ He finished his ale. โThat would be love.
After you, it's all cheap tequila.
All paths are present, always... and we can but choose among them.
Grief heals ... unshed tears fester like a canker in the soul.
It's the same questions we ask of our existence, and the answer is always the same. The mystery lies not in the question nor the answer, but in the asking and answering themselves, over and over again, and the end is engendered in the beginning.