War is all and king of all

Here and now was always where Tempus was, not off somewhere in the realm of Greater Good or Mortal Soul or Eternal Consequence. He'd lost the ability to determine greater good, if there was one; his mortal soul he'd given up on long ago. And as for eternal consequence - he was its embodiment.

Life was never simple, happiness never where you thought you'd left it, and right and wrong no more fixed than clouds in the sky.

Wisdom, Niko thought as he leaned his cheek against his long-handled rake, cannot be had without price. And that price is blood. The sound of it in your veins. The pound of it in your head. The volume of it in a human body; the sickness when you've spilled it.

Arrows are cheap; you're expensive.

One lot apiece, one chance to undo an error or secure a fate.

What wastrel mankind destroyed takes time for nature to put to rights.