We are meant to taste of life ... and drink the cup of it to the dregs, bitter and sweet alike.

I preferred a hard truth to a well-meant lie.

There are patterns which emerge in one's life, circling and returning anew, an endless variation on a theme. So musicians say the greatest sonatas are composed; whether or not it is true, I do not know, but of a surety I have seen it emerge in the tapestry of my life.

It is my observations, though, that happiness limits the amount of suffering one is willing to inflict upon others

Night breeds its own sort of anticipation.

That was the problem ... with trusting to the written word ... We were human, mortal and fallible. We forgot, we made errors, argued ambiguities, and twisted meanings to suit our own ends. And in doing so, mayhap we reshaped the gods themselves.

Stupid to speak of blame when the wills of the immortals are involved.