Nothing of real worth can ever be bought. Love, friendship, honour, valour, respect. All these things have to be earned.
I would have offered you a forest of truth, but you wish to speak of a single leaf
The truth. Men will blind themselves with hot irons, rather than face it.
Fear is an aid to the warrior. It is a small fire burning. It heats the muscles, making us stronger. Panic comes when the fire is out of control, consuming all courage and pride.
We make choices every day, some of them good, some of them bad. And if we are strong enough, we live with the consequences.
No man should ever completely realize his dreams. What else would there then be to live for?
Old age is not as honorable as death, but most people seek it.
An enemy is like a man’s most prized flower. It brings him joy to see it buried in the ground.
Life is a struggle, from the agonies of birth to the railing against death. Devour or be devoured. The law of the wild.
How many hopes and dreams are trapped within these bones? How many wonders lie never to be discovered? This is what war is. Desolation, despair and loss. There are no victors.
There’s no shame in fear. But understand this – the coward is ruled by fear, while the hero rides it like a wild stallion.
I may be stupid, as you say, to believe in honour and friendship and loyalty without price. But these are virtues to be cherished, for without them we are no more than beasts roaming the land.
I was a man before I was a king, and no true man walks away when a friend needs him.
Our souls are but leaves in a storm, and only the gods know where we will come to rest.
If there is one sound the follows the march of humanity, it is the scream.
What is your name?”Why?”So I can mark your grave…
She was his north star, the fixed point round which his world turned. For as long as his heart beat, or hers, he believed they would always share a destiny.
Trust your instincts, and make judgements on what your heart tells you. The heart will not betray you.
Our lives are spent sailing in the mist, hoping for a burst of sunlight that can make sense of who we are.
This is the real magic of fantasy fiction: it can feed souls and change lives.
You are a Chosen Man. You are Parmenion, the Death of Nations. A hundred thousand souls will yousend to the dark river, screaming and wailing, lamenting their fate. It is right and just that youshould know your choices.
There is evil in all of us, and it is the mark of a man how he defies the evil within.
Love is both wondrous and yet full of peril. Love is a gateway through which hatred – disguised and unrecognized – can pass.
Like light and shadow, love and hate were inseparable. One could not exist without the other.
Danger lies in the extreme. A man who is always cruel is evil, a man who is always compassionate will be taken advantage of. It is more a question of balance, or harmony, if you will.
Do not complain of life’s unfairness. It is never fair – at best it is impartial.
The world would be a sadder place without stories.
Be lucky, Xander, and be brave. You will find that bravery and luck are often bedfellows.
… Life can be savored only if you look to the future and leave vengeance to the gods
A cynic by experience, a romantic by inclination and now a hero by necessity.
Risks? I have lived with the prospect of assassination for years. What risks? All men die, rich and poor alike. But if I am to die, then let it be while I fight, not like some bullock in a pen waiting for the ax to fall.