Janet Ellen Morris (born May 25, 1946) is an American author of fiction and nonfiction, best known for her fantasy and science fiction and her authorship of a non-lethal weapons concept for the U.S. military.
There are stranger things here than Thebans know about.
Men live, and then they die. It is the quality of the process of living which matters, that and that alone.
And Tempus thought then that nothing was more worthwhile than what was growing in this whitewashed barracks, where he has come to build a force such as men or gods have never seen - a force worth reckoning with, if you were of a mind. And something was of that mind. And something else opposed it. He should have expected that. Battle in the heavens, battle on the earth.
Sanctuary is for lovers, not fighters, this season.
Why is it we are always the targets of the angry Fates? Twice as many men of ours met harm as did theirs, since we've come here.
Sacred Bands and elite squadrons aren't what the mercenaries' guild is about. Field them at your peril.
One man can make another's life so much better.
The gods want to bring a better day, and you are their messengers. Trust not in all you see. Trust only in your hearts. And in us, who love you both.
The heavens listen to what is said on these cobbles. Laws of man and nature come together here. Here you must be firm. Here you must be true.
He loves the world so much. I agree it would be a shame to take that love away from meadow and tree, stream and sky, and all that lives in nature, and leave them lonely.
Everyone prepares for battle in his own way.
What wastrel mankind destroyed takes time for nature to put to rights.
Proof of war, when it comes, always comes too late.
It's all right. Things as they once were will never be again, but it's all right.
So well do I love you, I go to my god singing your praises. When I meet my father, I will tell him I fought beside you.
Niko, you're halfway to where you need to go. It's the most dangerous time. And all the gods and forces have a stake in you, Hero. Or do you want to be just a memory, a cult somewhere, with people sacrificing horses to your name?
This is as 'alone' as I'm likely to get with you - you're not half so fetching as your daughter.
One man, one horse, one holocaust on demand.
Look to the souls of Your own soldiers, God, who labor in Thine awful cause.
Men make their own fates - it's personal, not a matter for debate.