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All men must die. We are but death's instruments, not death himself.

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She had no time for sleep, with the weight of the world upon her shoulders. And she feared to dream. Sleep is a little death, dreams the whisperings o...more

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Men's lives have meaning, not their deaths.

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There is no shame in loving.

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This was how an enemy should be dealt with: with a dagger, not a declaration.

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I prefer my history dead. Dead history is writ in ink, the living sort in blood.""Do you want to die old and craven in your bed?""How else? Though not...more

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The things we love destroy us every time, lad. Remember that.

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I take no joy in mead nor meat, and song and laughter have become suspicious strangers to me. I am a creature of grief and dust and bitter longings. T...more

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She should be on a hill somewhere, under a fruit tree, with the sun and clouds above her and the rain to wash her clean.

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He is a sweet boy, quick to laugh, easy to love.

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We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy.

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We are only human, and the Gods have fashioned us for love. This is our greatest glory and our greatest tragedy.

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Love is the bane of honor, the death of duty.

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Death is so terribly final, while life is full of possibilities.

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Why won't they let me be? I just need to rest, that's all, to rest and sleep some, and maybe die a little.