Quotes About Wyrd

Someone smashed a flutterfler and without even thinking she touched her Stone and used Wyrd to piece its broken body back together. She filled its empty vessels with dreams and it became the stuff it used for blood. It brushed her cheek with its wings, then flew off -- dancing in the hot air.

Wyrd bið ful ?ræd," I said, and that is true. Fate is inexorable. Destiny is all. We make oaths, we make choices, but fate makes our decisions.

They laughed, but I was melancholy. The remnants of Rome always make me sad, simply because they are proof that we slide inexorably towards the darkness. Once there was light falling on marbled magnificence, and now we trudge through mud. Wyrd bið ful ?ræd. We

Wyrd bi ful aræd, we say, and it is true. Fate is inexorable.

Wyrd bið ful ãræd," I told Finan. Fate is inexorable.

Thoughts are like raindrops,' he persisted, introducing yet another of his interminable images. 'They fall, make a splash and then dry up. But the world of wyrd is like the mighty oceans from which raindrops arise and to which they return in rivers and streams.

Each rune is a complete representation of wyrd. Just as one drop of water reflects a perfect image of all that is around it, so each rune reflects the totality of wyrd. The rhythm of wyrd may be observed at all levels, whether it be the movement of the stars across the sky or the cutting of shapes into a patch of earth.

know the flow of the grain. The pattern of wyrd represented by this tree is visible in the grain and you must work within it.

Each sorcerer has his own connections with the forces of wyrd. In the execution of the shapes subtleties, allusions and personal secrets are revealed. Once you have mastered the copying skill, you will develop your own style and in time your knife will

All those who would understand the ways of wyrd must tread this path. You must strengthen the light within you, for once it burns brightly, it will illumine your way forever. There is already a tiny flame within your heart. The same flame burns within every human breast. Can you feel it? Can you see it with your inner eye?

I see a boy. Ah, he is beautiful, and he has the way of wyrd within him.

Our wyrds—our fates

How does she feel about leaving her family? But it was always her wyrd.

Those eyes saw everything. The green saw your heart, they said, the blue your mind, and the black…the black drank in wyrd and your woe so others would be safe. Killing was nothing to what thos eyes had seen.

What mattered was the truth, rising like birdsong, like the scent of flowers opening to the sun, of her wyrd. Cian's hand beneath hers. It always had been so. It had always been meant to be so. Fate goes over as it must.

Here, now, they were building a great pattern, she could feel it, and she would trace its shape one day: that was her wyrd, and fate goes on as it must. Today she was swearing to it, swearing here, with her people.

Her sister wanted to cry, but she was a woman grown. No one must see her tears, not even her women, for fear of bringing shame on the family name. There was nothing Hild could do. This was Hereswith's wyrd; it had been since Cwenburh's death.

She felt taller than an oak, taller than an elm. They would sing songs of the king's seer, the queen of wyrd.

She would have to remember that those who weren't used to her, or who hadn't been around her for a while, saw the legend first: twice uncanny. Wielder of wyrd, dealer of death, the king's seer.

The Christ and his priests were different. They were a storm that would change everything. They read. They would sweep the beach clean. But not of her. That was not her wyrd.

They knew she was a creature of the uncanny so let her protect herslf with wyrd and stave while she went to other worlds and communed with the gods.