Your Reverence, I do not hate any man in this world enough to inflict the results of my prayers upon him.

What you are is a question only you can answer.

I've got forward momentum. There's no virtue in it. It's just a balancing act. I don't dare stop.

The gods' most savage curses come upon us as answers to our own prayers. Prayer is a dangerous business.

I wanted to give you a victory. But by their essential nature triumphs can’t be given.

One foot in front of the other, wasn't that the grownup way of solving problems? Surely he ought to be a grownup at his age.

Well, what is a blessing but a curse from another point of view?