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The city guardsmen were like the keres, doom-bringers of merciless vengeance.

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
Vengeance
Doom
City
Cities
Like
Bringers
Merciless

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Love sees all hate is blind.
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No ethos, pursued without thought or mercy, is ethical.
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He loves the world so much. I agree it would be a shame to take that love away from meadow and tree, stream and sky, and all that lives in nature, and leave them lonely.
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When the balance is restored, people get hurt.
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Learn what can, and cannot, be asked from destiny.
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All gods are tricksters, and war gods worst of any.
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Something is going on everywhere, most of which no one understands.
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I am always yours to call, wherever the sea can reach.
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If you want to write something completely unique, you will probably fail or at best write something without redeeming value. The mind works in certain patterns: the mind organizes facts in story form it is your commonality with that body of human thought that makes a good book, not its estrangement from the common values that humans share.
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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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Men may not believe you, my son. But you must always say the truth, when the truth holds no danger for you or your loved ones.
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You're not one to take lightly, to love of for an evening and leave of a dawn.
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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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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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Such hubris could only come from a man's mouth.
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I see all sorts of things when I'm clearing my pipes.
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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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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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If cities have souls, Sanctuary's was troubled long before Tempus got here, and will be troubled long after he and his are gone.
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Sometimes the cost of winning for all the right reasons is so great that spirits die and hearts grow cold.
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