Memory did not let go; it remained the net dragged in one's wake, with all sorts of strange things snarled in the knotted strands. - Steven Erikson

Peace did not serve order; order served peace, and when order became godlike, sacrosanct and inviolate, then the peace thus won became a prison, and those who sought their freedom became enemies to order, and in the elimination of such enemies, peace was lost.

Such is the vastness of his genius that he can outwit even himself.

Leave me this freedom … to do something. To do a thing … a thing that does not destroy, but creates. Please, can I not be more than I am? Please. Do not find me.