And having once chosen, never to seek to return to the crossroads of that decision-for even if one chooses wrongly, the choice cannot be unmade.

Like a falling star, he descended on the Tarbh Cró, a Cassiline berserker, his sword biting and slashing like a silver snake.

The harp sounds at each passing breeze, but that does not mean the tune is masterfully played.

Let the warriors clamor after gods of blood and thunder; love is hard, harder than steel and thrice as cruel.

Beauty is at its most poignant when the cold hand of Death holds poised to wither it imminently.

It's funny how despair can soon become an old companion

Pain redeems all. It is the awareness of life, a reminder of death.