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It is hard to battle anger, for whatever it wants it pays from the soul.

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
Pay
Risk
Wants
Whatever
Soul
Hard
Pays
Anger
Battle

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All gods are tricksters, and war gods worst of any.
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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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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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I...keep trying to be perfect. For you. So you'll notice me.
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Always take responsibility for your past. It is your only collateral in life. Unless you despise yourself now, you cannot despise yourself then. Everything you did is a part of the process that brought you here. All your past is as alive and real as your so-called 'present.'
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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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Revenge is never the best driver for a battle, but a common one.
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Wars don't bring lasting peace, only lasting death.
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Death is a doorway, Niko, that leads to an adventure greater than any you have ever known.
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You count up your dead, every one. Always. Recall them, each and all - every face, every heart.
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I won't go back and live in the sea again.
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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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I am always yours to call, wherever the sea can reach.
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Something is going on everywhere, most of which no one understands.
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I thought we'd die there, quarrels in our backs, you for what you did and me for bearing witness.
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And personally, I've lost my thirst for vengeance.
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When the balance is restored, people get hurt.
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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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Sometimes a man does what he'd most like to avoid.
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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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