Outcasts of war, misfits, rebellious souls, Seekers of some vague kingdom in the stars — They hide out in the hills and stir up trouble, Call themsel… - Stephen Vincent Benét

We are the earth his word must sow like wheat And, if it finds no earth, it cannot grow. We are his earth, the mortal and the dying, Led by no star — the sullen and the slut, The thief, the selfish man, the barren woman, Who have betrayed him once and will betray him, Forget his words, be great a moment's space Under the strokes of chance, And then sink back into our small affairs. And yet, unless we go, his message fails.

The moon, a sweeping scimitar, dipped in the stormy straits, The dawn, a crimson cataract, burst through the eastern gates, The cliffs were robed in scarlet, the sands were cinnabar, Where first two men spread wings for flight and dared the hawk afar.

The north and the west and the south are good hunting ground, but it is forbidden to go east. It is forbidden to go to any of the Dead Places except to search for metal and then he who touches the metal must be a priest or the son of a priest. Afterwards, both the man and the metal must be purified. These are the rules and the laws; they are well made. It is forbidden to cross the great river and look upon the place that was the Place of the Gods — this is most strictly forbidden. We do not even say its name though we know its name. It is there that spirits live, and demons — it is there that there are the ashes of the Great Burning. These things are forbidden — they have been forbidden since the beginning of time.