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If cities have souls, Sanctuary's was troubled long before Tempus got here, and will be troubled long after he and his are gone.

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
Souls
Destiny
Cities
Gone
Soul
Long
Tempus
Troubled
Sanctuary

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Fight for life itself and everlasting freedom of the human spirit.
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Such hubris could only come from a man's mouth.
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Dreamers and dreaming dead, lots of them from neither here nor there with no chance of getting home again, lost in place and time.
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Tempus wanders eternally, bringing death to whomever loves him and being spurned by whomsoever he shall love.
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Men are fools who forget what really matters while time goes by.
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These Stepsons tread where mortals don't belong, some of us think. They seek out battle high above their station. Who knows what powers may yet take them and their mystic allies to task, bring them their comeuppance?
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If it was true today, it might be untrue tomorrow.
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The universe forgives those who give until their hearts are aching and their spirits weak, and finds a way to renew all strength and cure all ills, in this world or the next, if a soul can just have faith.
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There must be love, and understanding, to betray. Most men haven't the wit or the honor for betrayal: not to know it when they see it not the stomach to apprehend it as they do it. Most men, blind and dumb in their self-centeredness, don't betray: they merely disappoint.
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It's all right. Things as they once were will never be again, but it's all right.
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Gods have bloody hands.
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No ethos, pursued without thought or mercy, is ethical.
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Keep your enemies at a distance, your partners close at hand.
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Don't forget, Riddler, how I love thee. Or all we shared together. Or that this sea and all other seas can lead you back to me.
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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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Painful things are quickly forgotten.
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For Tempus...was a dozen storm gods' avatar no army he sanctified could know defeat no war he fought could not be won. Combat was life to him he fought like the gods themselves.
Janet Morris
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Choose life over death, Niko, when a choice can be made that puts no soul in jeopardy.
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To take care of the world seemed, finally, a privilege rather than a burden. The Riddler had led them to life's greatest victory. They had found a home.
Janet Morris
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I see all sorts of things when I'm clearing my pipes.
Janet Morris