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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
Wants
Whatever
Soul
Hard
Pays
Anger
Battle
Pay
Risk

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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.
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Die never for a god, Nikodemos who should know better - not your soldiers' god, nor any other.
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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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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.
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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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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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Tempus wanders eternally, bringing death to whomever loves him and being spurned by whomsoever he shall love.
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I can start the rain. Bring thunder. Bring lightning. Want to see?
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Be polite to all, friendly to none. Be professional. Be ready to kill everyone and everything.
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Fight for life itself and everlasting freedom of the human spirit.
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For me, myth is the 'common' language of us all.
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I think we're all in Cime's army now. But never mind, the Storm God hasn't forgotten us. Heaven is no farther away than it ever was.
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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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Gods colliding, ethos and mythos trying to combine. The Sacred Band caught up in a whirlwind not of any god's devising: he and Niko had wanted to save twenty-three pairs of fated Theban fighters. Now everything feels fated and fighting oversweeps its boundaries of time and place and plane.
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You must become like yourself.
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Niko's angular face caught a flicker of firelight and Tempus saw his future there: sharp purpose, discipline, and power in perfect balance love of man and gods, and mercy transcending all. If war ever wore a more humane face, this one would make it so.
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We've the new hard-steel, though why they're all so hot to pay twice the price when men're soft as clay and even wood will pierce the boldest belly, I can't say.
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And personally, I've lost my thirst for vengeance.
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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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Love sees all hate is blind.
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