Where power was perceived, power was given. For his entire life Conphas had been surrounded by tutors.

I am my thoughts, but the sources of my thoughts exceed me. I do not own myself, because the darkness comes before me.

Some events mark us so deeply that they find more force of presence in their aftermath than in their occurrence. They are moments that rankle at becoming past, and so remain contemporaries of our beating hearts. Some events are not remembered – they are relived.

The genius of most men lay in finding reasons after their actions. The heart was ever self-serving, especially when the beliefs served involved sacrifice.

Where hopes burn bright,” he said, “patience is quickly consumed.

Power does not make safe. History murders the children of weak rulers.

The world is only as deep as we can see. This is why fools think themselves profound. This is why terror is the passion of revelation.

You realized those truths that cut against the interests of the powerful were called lies, and that those lies that served those interests were called truths.

He had despised the sorcerer, thinking him one of those mewling souls who forever groaned beneath burdens of their own manufacture.

To resent is to brood in inaction, to pass through life acting in a manner indistinguishable from those who bear no grudges. But hatred hails from a wilder, far more violent tribe. Even when you cannot strike out, you strike nonetheless. Inward, if not outward, as if such things have direction. To hate, especially without recourse to vengeance, is to besiege yourself, to starve yourself to the point of eating your own, then to lay wreaths of blame at the feet of the accused.