Wisdom did not belong to mortals, and those whom others called wise were only those who, through grim experience, had touched the very edges of unwel… - Steven Erikson

Wisdom did not belong to mortals, and those whom others called wise were only those who, through grim experience, had touched the very edges of unwelcome truths. For the wise, even joy was tinged with sorrow.

The past is all patterns, and those patterns remain beneath our feet, even as the stars above reveal their own patterns — for the stars we gaze upon each night are naught but an illusion from the past.

I have seen the face of sorrow
She looks away in the distance
Across all these bridges
From whence I came
And those spans, trussed and arched
Hold up our lives as we go back again
To how we thought then
To how we thought we thought then
I have seen sorrow's face,
But she is ever turned away
And her words leave me blind
Her eyes make me mute
I do not understand what she says to me
I do not know if to obey
Or attempt a flood of tears
I have seen her face
She does not speak
She does not weep
She does not know me
For I am but a stone fitted in place
On the bridge where she walks

Lay of the Bridgeburners
Toc the Younger

As for presumption, I honestly couldn’t care less. Truth can’t be danced around, not out here, not now, not ever again.