Janet Morris Quotes - Page 6

Niko's angular face caught a flicker of firelight and Tempus saw his future there: sharp purpose, discipline, and power in perfect balance; love of man and gods, and mercy transcending all. If war ever wore a more humane face, this one would make it so.

Time to unite the Sacred Bands, Thebans and his people: one unit, one heart, one swing through life.

Here Stormbringer spies the Stepsons, the Theban fighters, and the 3rd Commando, attending to their own. In the face of such unflinching determination and unswerving devotion, the hurricane pauses and calms. Its ravings turn to mutters.

Every man's in his own hands, with a little help from his brothers.

Survival's the thing, isn't it?

So some will be left who remember.

Wanting neither too much to live, nor too much to die.

Very little in science fiction can transcend the gimmickry of a technical conceit, yet without that conceit at its heart a book is not truly science fiction. Furthermore, so little emerging thought and technology is employed by sf writers today that the genre is lagging far behind reality both in the cosmology area and the technology area: sf is no longer a place to experiment, but is now very derivative.

Everything that anyone respects is what men naturally excel at: fighting, accruing wealth, playing at power.

Humiliation sets armies marching, empires falling, breaks hearts and minds and souls.

Revenge is fruitless.

I thought we'd die there, quarrels in our backs, you for what you did and me for bearing witness.

Your honor blinds you, Tempus, to what's right and wrong these days.

Sacred Bands and elite squadrons aren't what the mercenaries' guild is about. Field them at your peril.

Some nights, valor and cold purpose aren't enough.

Why is it we are always the targets of the angry Fates? Twice as many men of ours met harm as did theirs, since we've come here.

"Learn what can, and cannot, be asked from destiny."

Vengeance is disappointing, always.

Grab reality by the balls and squeeze.

I can start the rain. Bring thunder. Bring lightning. Want to see?

Each soul has its appointed doom. How is it you dare to raise a mortal boy so high - high enough to flout the gods? Bring godhead where a man may reach out and take it? growls Enlil, and lightning splits a clear blue sky.

Don't blame yourself, or worry. Neither does a bit of good.

Gods and politics are the tools with which the godless and unprincipled manipulate the gullible.

For me, myth is the 'common' language of us all.

I must decide if you deserve to die.