Oh, measure it all out! Acceptable levels of misery and suffering!’ The cane swung down, thumped hard on the ground. ‘Acceptable? Who the fuck says a… - Steven Erikson

Worry not. Sing your songs with all the earnestness you possess. What is talent but the tongue that never ceases its wag? Look upon us poets and see how we are as dogs in the sun, licking our own behinds with such tender love. Naught else afflicts us but the vapours of our own worries.

We left a debt in blood,’ she said, baring her teeth. ‘Malazan blood. And it seems they will not let that stand.’
They are here. On this shore.
The Malazans are on our shore.

Compassion. Love. It was not civilization that birthed these gentle gifts - though its followers might claim otherwise. Nor was civilization the sweetest garden for such things to blossom in - though those trapped within it might imagine it so. No, as far as [Karsa] could see, civilization was a madman's mechanism that, for all its good intentions, ended up ensnaring the gentle gifts, stifling them, leaving them to wander mazes only to die alone and in the dark.