More than one philosopher has claimed that we ever remain children, far beneath the indurated layers that make up the armour of adulthood. Armour encumbers, restricts the body and soul within it. But it also protects. Blows are blunted. Feelings lose their edge, leaving us to suffer naught but a plague of bruises, and, after a time, bruises fade.
Steven EriksonI warn you all, hatred is finding fertile soil within me. And in your compassion, in your every good intention, you nurture it.
Steven EriksonA celebration of insignificance, Is that all we are in the end? And one day I’ll just be one more of those faces, frozen in death and wonder
Steven EriksonThe notion of evil for its own sake strikes me as boring -- all these Dark Lords intent on creating wastelands packed with enslaved victims... for what?
Steven Erikson