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Wars don't bring lasting peace, only lasting death.

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
Lasting
Wars
Conflict
Bring
Peace
War
Death

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Sometimes a man does what he'd most like to avoid.
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You must become like yourself.
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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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I must decide if you deserve to die.
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What we hold sacred is honor, justice, and glory. You need not swear allegiance to our storm god, to serve with us. Fighters are among us from many lands, with many gods and many beliefs. Believe as you will. What is between a man and his god is theirs alone to say.
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I'm just a weapon of the god.
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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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All gods are tricksters, and war gods worst of any.
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There are stranger things here than Thebans know about.
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Life to you, Riddler, and everlasting glory.
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The heavens listen to what is said on these cobbles. Laws of man and nature come together here. Here you must be firm. Here you must be true.
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Bandara was not an easy place to return to: it could hide from the common worlds whose periphery it inhabited. But Bandara never had, in all its years, completely disappeared.
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It is hard to battle anger, for whatever it wants it pays from the soul.
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No ethos, pursued without thought or mercy, is ethical.
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The only unfair fight is the one you lose.
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So well do I love you, I go to my god singing your praises. When I meet my father, I will tell him I fought beside you.
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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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For me, myth is the 'common' language of us all.
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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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It is upon each soul to recognize its limit.
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