4
" In death we vanquished enemies,
In death, we slew our foes.
Blood soaked rage engulfed our blades,
When blood lust took its hold.
–
In death, a darkness troubled one,
In death, concealed, undone.
Deep in darkness dragons wait,
When blood would set the sun.
–
In death, we glorified his name.
In death, we saw too late,
When drink, to him, we raised in praise,
The dragon sealed his fate.
–
In death, we lived. In death, we fought.
In death, we grew to hate.
In death, the blackened wraith released,
The blinded shade beneath.
–
In death, his darkened eyes grew dim.
In death, his mind was lost within.
With blackened eyes, he slew his kin,
In death, we lost to him.
–
In death, I took up sword and slew.
In death, the dragon’s wrath ensued.
We had no choice. The dragon fumed.
In death, he was consumed.
–
In death, our brother’s blood deplored,
In death, our brother, did I gore,
When I rose up and killed one more.
His blood ensconced my sword.
–
From death, his mutterings are weak.
From death, his voice, to me, it speaks.
Entombed within my brother’s keep,
Revived in death, he sleeps. "
― Angela B. Chrysler , Dolor and Shadow (Tales of the Drui #1)
7
" For our own part, we learned a great deal about the techniques of love, and because we didn't know the words to denote what we saw, we had to make up our own. That was why we spoke of " yodeling in the canyon" and " tying the tube," of " groaning in the pit," " slipping the turtle's head," and " chewing the stinkweed." Years later, when we lost our own virginities, we resorted in our panic to pantomiming Lux's gyrations on the roof so long ago; and even now, if we were to be honest with ourselves, we would have to admit that it is always that pale wraith we make love to, always her feet snagged in the gutter, always her single blooming hand steadying itself against the chimney, no matter what our present lovers' feet and hands are doing. "
8
" Carmack was of the moment. His ruling force was focus. Time existed for him not in some promising future or sentimental past but in the present condition, the intricate web ol problems and solutions, imagination and code. He kept nothing from the past–no pictures, no records, no games, no computer disks. He didn’t even save copies of his first games, Wraith and Shadowforge. There was no yearbook to remind of his time at Shadowforge. There was no yearbook to remind of his time at school, no magazine copies of his early publications. He kept nothing but what he needed at the time. His bedroom consisted of a lamp, a pillow, a blanket, and a stack of books. There was no mattress. All he brought with him from home was a cat named Mitzi (a gift from his stepfamily) with a mean streak and a reckless bladder. "
9
" We may achieve climate, but weather is thrust upon us. Santone, then, cannot be blamed for this cold gray fog that came and kissed the lips of the three thousand, and then delivered them to the cross. That night the tubercles, whose ravages hope holds in check, multiplied. The writhing fingers of the pale mist did not go thence bloodless. Many of the wooers of ozone capitulated with the enemy that night, turning their faces to the wall in that dumb, isolated apathy that so terrifies their watchers. On the red stream of Hemorrhagia a few souls drifted away, leaving behind pathetic heaps, white and chill as the fog itself. Two or three came to view this atmospheric wraith as the ghost of impossible joys, sent to whisper to them of the egregious folly it is to inhale breath into the lungs, only to exhale it again, and these used whatever came handy to their relief, pistols, gas or the beneficent muriate.
- A Fog in Santone (1898-1901) "
― O. Henry , Hikayeler
