Tag Archives: Death

 

Listen to me! Five years ago we hit rocks on the Penelope. Her hull was breached and she was shipping water. She rolled on the Great Green like a hog in a swamp. Her speed was gone and she almost sank. We kept her afloat and made it to port. Then she was repaired. I didn’t judge her as a bad ship. She was damaged in a storm. I judge her by how she sails when her hull is sound. You are like that ship. Your heart was breached when your mother died. And from the heart comes courage.

Odysseus, to Helikaon, Lord of the Silver Bow

 

Guilt always follows bereavement. It is a natural part of the process. Someone we love dies and the first question we ask ourselves is: could we have done anything to prevent it? And if we couldn’t the guilt remains. Did we love them enough? Did we give them enough of our time? We remember arguments or rows, or tears, or misunderstandings. And every one of them comes back to us like a knife in the heart. You are not alone in your suffering. Every man or woman old enough to know someone who has died feels the same.

Skilgannon, to Harad, The Swords of Night and Day

 

Everything ends. In a curious way it is what makes life so beautiful. I knew an artist once, who could craft flowers from glass – fabulous items. But one night, as we were drinking in a small tavern, he told me he had never once fashioned anything with the beauty of a genuine rose. And he knew he never would. For the secret of its beauty is that it must die.

Angel, to Miriel, Waylander II: In the Realm of the Wolf

 

There’s some would say what you did was foolish. They would tell you that it is better to live a long lifetime as a coward, rather than a short one as hero. They are wrong. The coward dies every day. Every time he runs away from danger, and leaves others to suffer in his place. Every time he watches an injustice and tells himself: “It is nothing to do with me.” Every time a man risks himself for another, and survives, he becomes more than he was before.

Druss, to Rabalyn, White Wolf