Quotes from Janny Wurts

You are not mine to command. But the choice to kill always means closing the mind to the chance of a living alternative.

You know, that's the trouble with drinking. Come the morning, you can never remember their names.

Prophets are dastardly pessimists, to a man.

I should be impressed?' he commented finally. 'World renowned for foul works and mayhem, whether I practise such doctrine, or not? A shame. Shown such vulgar taste, what man with a mind would scarcely wallow to seek further clarity. Sweet faith, bliss, and bathos, it's an execrable drama. Never mind that the theological concepts are glorified platitudes sprung out of lies.

What is our experience, but the reflected truth of our misapprehensions and short-falls? And also the grace of our beauty and strength, and the wise choices that make up our character?

Your prim faith in the True Sect's canon serves naught. The temple preaches a loveless morality that cares not one jot for the plight of our livelihood. The priests are fat parasites, theosophizing on their rumps while folk like us break our backs, milked dry by their tithes and their rote obligations. Where does their doctrine show the least concern for our chance to enjoy the fruits of our happiness?

Lysaer's knees buckled. Arithon caught him as he fell. Barriers abandoned, he locked both arms around his half-brother and threw himself at the bright, mercurial shimmer of the Gate.

The shadows' geas bound the mind to madness: already Athera's hope of renewed sunlight might be ruined. Sharp words prodded the Mad Prophet back to awareness.

The curse that afflicted this scion of s'Ilessid had become everything the Fellowship of the Seven had warned and worse.

When the first reedy snore escaped the Mad Prophet's lips, Asandir's forbidding manner softened. His fingers smoothed black hair from a profile all too familiar, and his smile widened with amusement. 'So, our Prophet thinks you a servant, does he?

A masterbard's given duty was to ease the hearts of the bereaved.

Sometimes there are no victims to save, and nothing is broken that should be fixed.

Did I mention any name? But dissembling was wasted; Eldir only glowered until Sethvir gave way with a shrug. That's the part of his personality that makes us all feel like we've been kissing coiled vipers for a penny bet.

How had a royal son of s'Ffalenn come by the abuse so cruelly marked into youthful flesh? The sight was an offence. Dascen Elur must have changed drastically in the years since the Fellowship sealed the Worldsend Gate for the cause of Athera's drowned sunlight.