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It was a fossilized path: the will which had cut this gash out of these solitary places so that the blood and sap would flow there was long since dead - and dead too were the circumstances which had guided this will. A whitish and indurated scar remained, gradually gnawed away at by the earth like a flesh that heals itself, yet its direction was still vaguely cut into the horizon; a language and crepuscular sign rather than a way forward - a worn-out lifeline which still vegetated through the fallow land as it does on the palm of a hand. It was so old that, since it had been constructed, the very configuration of the land must have changed imperceptibly. ↗
She knew she couldn’t escape unscathed, and the trauma would take her a long time to get past. And she might never fully heal mentally. There was no denying the fact, though, that everything had changed for her. To know what to expect wasn’t the same as actually living it. ↗
The problem is that you cannot prove yourself against someone who is much weaker than yourself. They are in a lose/lose situation. If you are strong and fighting the weak, then if you kill your opponent then you are a scoundrel... if you let him kill you, then you are an idiot. So here is a dilemma which others have suffered before us, and for which as far as I can see there is simply no escape. ↗
Literature simply becomes richer after you've been fired, rejected, stranded, or had to change a few midnight diapers. ↗
«Whatever,» she said, turning her back. «No, wait, I changed my mind.» Galadir grabbed her by the arm and molded her to his body. «I have already forgiven you.» He kissed her passionately. Morwen tied her arms around his neck, reciprocating the kiss. «I love you, Galadir, Prince of Thera. I love you so much,» she said, breaking away and showing off her stunning smile. ↗
Every time I hear a political speech or I read those of our leaders, I am horrified at having, for years, heard nothing which sounded human. It is always the same words telling the same lies. ↗
