Why is there ever this perverse cruelty in humankind, that makes us hurt most those we love best?
We may not have demon fathers dangling offers of infernal power before us, but everyone understands what it means to struggle with temptation or resist the urge to give in to our baser natures.
For this too I learned, that a storyteller's tale may end, but history goes on always. These events, so distant in legend, play a part in shaping the very events we witness about us, each and every day.
It's funny, how one can look back on a sorrow one thought one might well die of at the time, and know that one had not yet reckoned the tenth part of true grief.
It is my observations, though, that happiness limits the amount of suffering one is willing to inflict upon others
This is the secret that none dares tell who fights for a cause. Dying, we are all alike.
