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

Janet Morris

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Janet Morris
Age: 78
Born: 1946
Born: May 25
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Boston
Massachusetts
Janet Ellen Morris
Janet E. Morris
Love
Determination
Loneliness
Commitment
Aren
Cold
Purpose
Night
Valor
Enough
Nights

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What is needed is never to be had without price.
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It was his soul's freedom that was in question. And that question was whether freedom was worth the price when it meant shirking the responsibilities of honor.
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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.
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Wars don't bring lasting peace, only lasting death.
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You've been playing gods-and-witches again, that's clear.
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Wisdom, Niko thought as he leaned his cheek against his long-handled rake, cannot be had without price.
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Nothing powers hate better than embarrassment.
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Life to you, Riddler, and everlasting glory.
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It is hard to battle anger, for whatever it wants it pays from the soul.
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Go carefully, child of mat, where no mercy can be had, and let your faith lead you on.
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You must become like yourself.
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Look to the souls of Your own soldiers, God, who labor in Thine awful cause.
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Niko, you're halfway to where you need to go. It's the most dangerous time. And all the gods and forces have a stake in you, Hero. Or do you want to be just a memory, a cult somewhere, with people sacrificing horses to your name?
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And personally, I've lost my thirst for vengeance.
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And as for death - we get what we expect.
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Everyone prepares for battle in his own way.
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Choose life over death, Niko, when a choice can be made that puts no soul in jeopardy.
Janet Morris
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Fight for life itself and everlasting freedom of the human spirit.
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Now the Fates are here on the beach, three shadows blacker than black, walking through the dunes and looking for their own. Just shadows, lamb-white hands beneath black robes spun of tears, glide among the celebrants on this night wherein the spirits of Thebes have found a home, if serendipitously.
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Die never for a god, Nikodemos who should know better - not your soldiers' god, nor any other.
Janet Morris