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" The world is a cruel mother, a matron of darkness, selfishness, greed, and misery. For most, their time suckling at her breast is naught but a scramble through stinging, tearing briars before a naked, shameful collapse as the flesh gives out. And yet in the bright eyes of every newborn, there lies a spark, a potential for goodness, the possibility of a life worth living. That spark deserves its chance. And though most of them will turn out to be as worthless as the parents who sired them, while the cruelty of the earth will tell them to release their innocence and join in the drawing of daggers, every now and then one manages to clutch to its beauty and refuses to release it into the dark. "
― Ed McDonald , Blackwing (Raven's Mark, #1)
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" Damn you to Lolth's web!" he said. " Don't you dare pretend if doesn't matter to you!" " Why do you care?" Drizzt growled back at him. " No one who has ever made a difference?" " Do you believe that?" " What do you want from me, son of Baenre?" " Just the truth-your truth. You believe that you have never made a difference?" " Perhaps there is no difference to be made," Drizzt replied. " Do not ever say that," Jarlaxle said to him. " Why do you care?" Drizzzt asked. " Because you were the one who escaped," Jarlaxle replied. " Don't you understand? Jarlaxle went on. " I watched you-we all watched you. Whenever a matron mother, or almost any female of Menzoberranzan was about, we spoke your name with vitriol, promising to avenge Lolth and kill you." " But whenever they were not around, the name of Drizzt Do'Urden was spoken with jealousy, often reverence. You do not understand, do you? You don't even recognize the difference you've made to so many of us in Menzoberranzan." " How? Why?" " Because you were the one who escaped!" " You are here with me!" Drizzt argued. " Are you bound to the City of Spiders by anything more than your own designs? By Bregan D'Aerthe?" " I'm not talking about the city, you obstinate fool," Jarlaxle replied, his voice lowering. Again Drizzt looked at him, at a loss. " The heritage," Jarlaxle explained. " The fate. "