The dead never interupt...They but arrive.

Should you ever outrun the guilt within your past, Sorceress, you will have outrun your soul. When it finds you again it will kill you.

An item that passes without provenance, pursued by many who thirst for its cold kiss, on which life and all that lay within life are often gambled. Alone, a beggar's crown. In great numbers, a king's folly. Weighted with ruin, yet blood washes from it beneath the lightest rain, and to the next no hint of its cost.

The tiger is humbled by memories of prey.

'They've had a long time to think,' Paran murmured. 'Sometimes, that's all there's needed. The heart of wisdom is tolerance. I think.'

Children were meant to be gifts. The physical manifestation of love between a man and a woman. And for that love all manner of sacrifice could be borne.

Memories belong in the soil, in stone, in wind. They are the land's unseen meaning, such that touches the soul of all who would look - truly look - upon it. Touches, in faintest whisper, old, almost shapeless echoes - to which a mortal life adds its own.

To grieve is the gift of the living - a gift so many of our kin have long lost

Wise words are like arrows flung at your forehead. What do you do? Why, you duck of course.