We die a little every day and by degrees weโre reborn into different men, older men in the same clothes, with the same scars.
Mark LawrenceIโll tell you now. That silence almost beat me. Itโs the silence that scares me. Itโs the blank page on which I can write my own fears. The spirits of the dead have nothing on it. The dead one tried to show me hell, but it was a pale imitation of the horror I can paint on the darkness in a quiet moment.
Mark Lawrence