I think now, looking back, that we all die, little by little, as each of those we love departs before us.

Think how much happier the world might be if people sought approval for what they do from their children instead of their ancestors.

Power loves not the light of day, nor the attention of curious eyes. In darkness it thrives most... A lord may send his army hither and thither, but the true testing of his power is in those places where his army is not... Has he sent its long fingers far enough through the backstreets and alleys, into the drinking dens and the lending-houses, so that he may gather them unto himself and hold them firm without a single swordsman?

But past service counted for little these days. The world, and those who governed it, moved too quickly to be carrying such burdens as memory and gratitude.

Loss alone is but the wounding of a heart; it is memory that makes it our ruin.

Power loves not the light of day, nor the attention of curious eyes. In darkness it thrives most...A lord may send his army hither and thither, but the true testing of his power is in those places where his army is not...Has he sent its long fingers far enough through the backstreets and alleys, into the drinking dens and the lending-houses, so that he may gather them unto himself and hold them firm without a single swordsman?

When a man may whisper in a close ear, and that whisper be repeated far away and many moons later, then he has power. When a many may speak against another, and that other be brought to ruin and rue by nothing more than those words, then he has power. And if a man can act without the appearance of action, and bring about great change without the appearance of desiring it, then he has power.