Stories are the things that allow us to persuade each other that we're human.

You mourn, for it is proper to mourn. But your grief serves you; you do not become a slave to grief. You bid the dead farewell, and you continue.

Sometimes big things happen, and they echo. Those echoes crash across worlds. They are the ripples in the fabric of things. Often they manifest as storms. Reality is a fragile thing, after all.

There are a number of paths that lead to this place. I have been avoiding them for some small time, now.

Even the proudest spirit can be broken with love.

There are three things, and three things only, that can lift the pain of mortality and ease the ravages of life. These are wine, women and song.

The world is always ending for someone. It’s a good line. I give it to the father of the child. He says it to his wife. ‘The world is always ending for someone,’ he says. She is trying to quieten the baby, and does not hear him. I doubt that it would matter if she did.