Dark Age

Well, here I am, you deviant bitch. Here I bloody am. The motherfucking consequence.

Life is meant to be felt. Else why live? Valleys make the mountains.

You asked, what do I fear? I fear a man who believes in good. For he can excuse any evil.

The tragedy of the gifted is the belief they are entitled to greatness, Lysander. As a human, you are entitled only to death.

A moving mind is always fed. At rest, mine eats itself.

But the measure of a man is not the fear he sows in his enemies. It is the hope he gives his friends.

Until then, endure, my love. Endure.

But in the kingdom of death, amidst ramparts of bodies and wind all of screams, there is a king, and his name is not Lune. It is Reaper.

There will dawn a day when these hostile hours, these days of hatred and violence, seem the faintest of memories, but dark and steep and long is the road up out of hell. So do not tire, do not despair, do not abandon your brethren, and do not forget that through this darkness we and we alone carry the light of freedom. We must defend it with every cell in our bodies. If not now, when? If not us, who?

I no longer trust stillness. Stillness is the enemy taking careful aim.

Is a man a coward if he realizes that bravery is just a myth the old tell the young so they line up for the meatgrinder?

The key is having a long memory for the sweet, and a short one for the bitter.

I’ll never get used to seeing the fear Sevro wakes in people. Deep down they know Darrow is operating on a framework of logic. No one, not even me, believes that Sevro is completely sane.

I kept looking for hope in the world. Expecting the world to supply deliverance if I plucked the right chords. Demanding that it supply validation to my labor if I just gave enough effort. But that is not the nature of the world. Its nature is to consume. In time, it will consume us all, and the spheres will spin until they too are consumed when our sun dies. Maybe that is the point of it. Knowing that though one day darkness will cover all, at least your eyes were open to see moments of light.

You will be hated and you will hate. You will love and be loved. You will fall and you will rise. Never will you know peace, but you will know joy.

Get him inside somewhere and keep that man alive.” “Man?” Screwface laughs. “Hic est Lupus, motherfucker.

One must worry about the strength of a principle when it must compromise itself so often to survive.

I would die for the truth that all men are created equal. But in the kingdom of death, amidst ramparts of bodies and wind all of screams, there is a king, and his name is not Lune. It is Reaper.

During war, the laws are silent.

The man is broke, but he is not allowed to break.

I continue to exists, only because with existence there is still hope.

But that is the noble lie of demokracy, isn’t it? The belief in humanity, even though humanity is a screaming, selfish mob. I love humans, truly. But humanity …” She shivers.

There’s never a right call, just people who make the hard ones.

Matter, how tiny my share Time, how brief my allotment Fate, how small my roll to play Self, all that can be mastered

Fear is the torrent. The raging river. To fight it is to break and drown. But to stand astride it is to see it, feel it, and use its course for your own whims.

It is easier to find men who will volunteer to die, than to find those who are willing to endure pain with patience.

Love may give one wings, but everything burns when it flies too close to the sun.

I hope you loved and loathed this story. I hope you read into the early morning, well past any reasonable hour, and that you come along with me for the conclusion of this little tale, and many more that are yet to be written.

But you don't get the wolf by the tongue without reaching through its teeth.

Forget malice or anger. All should beware the wrath of an offended soul.