Iron Gold

I will love you until the sun dies. And when it does, I will love you in the darkness.

I know it may be impossible to believe now, when everything is dark and broken, but you will survive this pain, little one. Pain is a memory. You will live and you will struggle and you will find joy. And you will remember your family from this breath to your dying days, because love does not fade. Love is the stars, and its light carries on long after death.

My wife is not as fickle as a flame. She is an ocean. I knew from the first that I cannot own her, cannot tame her, but I am the only storm that moves her depths and stirs her tides. And that is more than enough.

A new wound can take a body. Opening an old one can claim a soul.

It is my duty as a free man to read so I'm not blind being lead around by my nose

The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, or a hell of heaven.

Sometimes, little one, it’s best if the worlds think you a little mad.

I suppose that is what every man must tell himself in war.” His voice rasps and he sucks again on the water tube. “That there will be an end, and when it is done, enough of himself will remain. Enough to be a father. A brother. A lover. But we know it isn’t true. Don’t we, Darrow? War eats the victors last.

The key to learning, to power, to having the final say in everything, is observation. By all means, be a storm inside, but save your movement and wind till you know your purpose.

Sharing a life threads more than flesh and blood together. It weaves her memories in and around and through mine. The more I know of her, the more I share of her, the more I love her in a way the boy I used to be never knew how to love. Eo was a flame, dancing against the wind. I tried to catch her. Tried to hold her. But she was never meant to be held. My wife is not as fickle as a flame. She is an ocean. I knew from the first that I cannot own her, cannot tame her, but I am the only storm that moves her depths and stirs her tides. And that is more than enough.

I loved you before I ever met you. I will love you until the sun dies. And when it does, I will love you in the darkness.

Do not let fear touch you. 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.

Sevro sniffs my neck and makes a noise of distaste. “By Jove. You wretch. Did you dip yourself in piss before the occasion?” “It’s cologne,” I say. “Mustang bought it for me last Solstice.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Is it made out of piss?

They all want a part of it. A part of the pain that's not theirs. Nod their heads. Wrinkle their foreheads. Now they want to pity it, gorge on my pain. And when they're done or bored or too sad, they whisk themselves away to stare at a screen or stuff their fat faces, thinking 'How lucky am I to be me.' And they they forget the pain and say we should be good citizens. Get a job. Assimilate..They planted us in stones, watered us with pain, and now marvel how we have thorns.

For those who dine with war and empire, the bill always comes at the end.

Sevro grins. “Listen, Thraxa, kids are like dogs. Some whimper, some bark, some growl. You just gotta find the right language and then speak it back at them.” Alexandar smirks. “You can speak to dogs?” “I talk to you, don’t I?

But history is so often molded from tainted clay by those who remain.

Men call him father, liberator, warlord, Slave King, Reaper. But he feels a boy as he falls toward the war-torn planet, his armor red, his army vast, his heart heavy. It is the tenth year of war and the thirty-third of his life.

This is not the end. I loved you before I ever met you. I will love you until the sun dies. And when it does, I will love you in the darkness. Goodbye, wife.

Anything gentle that lives long, hides its stinger well.

If you are wise and lucky and live long as me, you will learn this pain is just a drop in the sea.

Stories are the wealth of humanity!

A fool pulls the leaves. A brute chops the trunk. A sage digs the roots. —LORN AU ARCOS

The destroyer of a civilization too often resembles its founders.

Those you protect will not see you. They will not understand you. But you are the Gray wall between civilization and chaos. And they stand safe in the shadow you cast. Do not expect praise or love. Their ignorance is proof of the success of your sacrifice. For we who serve the state, duty must be its own reward.

Sevro…are you going to be civil?” He shrugs. “Good enough.

After ten years of war, I no longer believe in moments of peace.

I am Cassius au Bellona, son of Tiberius, son of Julia, Morning Knight, and my honor remains.

Mercy emboldens evil men.’

New’ generally means someone’s just trying to make money off something old.