JoanOfArc

☦️

“The best of men are not much better than housebroken.”

Nynaeve paused, and added half to herself, “But then, the best of them are worth the trouble of housebreaking.”

Surprisingly, Stannis smiled at that.

“You’re bold enough to be a Stark. Yes, I should have come sooner."

"If not for my Hand, I might not have come at all. Lord Seaworth is a man of humble birth, but he reminded me of my duty, when all I could think of was my rights. I had the cart before the horse, Davos said. I was trying to win the throne to save the kingdom, when I should have been trying to save the kingdom to win the throne.”

No.

This is somewhere to be.

This is all you have,

but it's still something.

Streets and sodium lights.

The sky,

the world.

You're still alive.

The only thing we’re allowed to do is believe that we won’t regret the choice we made.

To Carthage then I came

Burning burning burning burning

O Lord thou pluckest me out

O Lord thou pluckest

burning

Te souviens-tu ?... Mais ici ma voix tremble,

Car je n'ai plus de noble souvenir ;

Viens-t'en, l'ami, nous pleurerons ensemble,

En attendant un meilleur avenir.

Mais si la mort, planant sur ma chaumière,

Me rappelait au repos qui m'est dû,

Tu fermeras doucement ma paupière,

En me disant Soldat, t'en souviens-tu ?

The ideal embodied in Launcelot is “escapism” in a sense never dreamed of by those who use that word; it offers the only possible escape from a world divided between wolves who do not understand, and sheep who cannot defend, the things which make life desirable. There was, to be sure, a rumour in the last century that wolves would gradually become extinct by some natural process; but this seems to have been an exaggeration

There has to be a price, Rand. There is always a price.

Perhaps I can pay it here.

It is every man's right, Rand, to choose when to Sheathe the Sword.

Even one like me.

The flow of time is always cruel.

But as he stood watching Carthage burn, Scipio Aemilianus reflected on the fate of this once great power. Overcome with emotion, he cried. His friend and mentor, Polybius, approached and asked why Aemilianus was crying. What better outcome can any man hope for?

Aemilianus replied, "A glorious moment, Polybius; but I have a dread foreboding that some day the same doom will be pronounced on my own country."

According to Roman tradition, Aemilianus then quoted a line from Homer: “A day will come when sacred Troy shall perish, And Priam and his people shall be slain.”

Aemilianus knew that no power endures indefinitely, that all empires must fall, and that there is nothing mortals can do about it.

The romantic chivalric tradition takes, or at any rate has in the past taken, the young man's eye off women as they are, as companions in shipwreck not guiding stars.

When the War of the Hundred Years ended, a man rode from one nation into another without end from the Blight to the Sea of Storms. Now we can ride through wilderness claimed by no nation for almost the whole of the land. We in the Borderlands have our battle with the Blight to keep us strong, and whole. Perhaps they did not have what they needed to keep them strong.

You say they failed, Builder? Yes, they failed, and what nation standing whole today will fail tomorrow? We are being swept away, humankind. Swept away like flotsam on a flood. How long until there is nothing left but the Borderlands?

How long before we, too, go under, and there is nothing left but Trollocs and Myrddraal all the way to the Sea of Storms?

Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?
Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?
Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.
Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?

No friend ever served me, and no enemy ever wronged me, whom I have not repaid in full.

You can't start a fire,

Sitting 'round crying over a broken heart!

This gun's for hire,

even if we're just dancing in the dark!

You can't start a fire,

worrying about your little world falling apart!

This gun's for hire,

even if we're just dancing in the dark!

Christ is born! Merry Christmas!

- ...Is the ocean, and beyond that oceans lies freedom. That's what I always believed.

But I was wrong.

The only thing we'll find out there is the enemy.

Everything here is exactly like I saw in my dad's memories.

If, we kill every last one of our enemies out there, will we finally be then?

If I am not, may God put me there; and if I am, may God so keep me.

If you could show the cabbage that I planted with my own hands to your emperor, he definitely wouldn't dare suggest that I replace the peace and happiness of this place with the storms of a never-satisfied greed.

In the time I was given I lived in my own land, ruling my people well, never turning to treachery, or swearing to oaths contrary to right. In this I take comfort and joy when now I am stricken with death-dealing wounds.

We men are monsters.

"What are you saying to me! I don't understand you in the least. But tell me, what's this for; I don't mean what for, but why are you . . . so suddenly. . . . Oh dear, I am talking nonsense! But you . . ."

And Nastenka broke off in confusion. Her cheeks flamed; she dropped her eyes.

"What's to be done, Nastenka, what am I to do? I am to blame. I have abused your . . . But no, no, I am not to blame, Nastenka; I feel that, I know that, because my heart tells me I am right, for I cannot hurt you in any way, I cannot wound you! I was your friend, but I am still your friend, I have betrayed no trust. Here my tears are falling, Nastenka. Let them flow, let them flow—they don't hurt anybody. They will dry, Nastenka."

"Sit down, sit down," she said, making me sit down on the seat. "Oh, my God!"

"No, Nastenka, I won't sit down; I cannot stay here any longer, you cannot see me again; I will tell you everything and go away. I only want to say that you would never have found out that I loved you. I should have kept my secret. I would not have worried you at such a moment with my egoism. No! But I could not resist it now; you spoke of it yourself, it is your fault, your fault and not mine. You cannot drive me away from you. . . ."

"No, no, I don't drive you away, no!" said Nastenka, concealing her confusion as best she could, poor child.

"You don't drive me away? No! But I meant to run from you myself. I will go away, but first I will tell you all, for when you were crying here I could not sit unmoved, when you wept, when you were in torture at being—at being—I will speak of it, Nastenka—at being forsaken, at your love being repulsed, I felt that in my heart there was so much love for you, Nastenka, so much love! And it seemed so bitter that I could not help you with my love, that my heart was breaking and I . . . I could not be silent, I had to speak, Nastenka, I had to speak!"

The storm of battle has taken us all

But to the enemy we shall not fall

Savoy must break from her shackles

That is the task of the noble Jackals

Savoy must break from her shackles

That is the task of the noble Jackals

Guy and Olivier, the noble Edgar

They were Savoy’s true protectors

Augustus Fournier, from Aldersberg Town

Never forget their renown

Augustus Fournier, from Aldersberg Town

Never forget their renown!

“What do you fear, lady?" Aragorn asked.

"A cage," Éowyn said. "To stay behind bars, until use and old age accept them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire.”