The Heart Cherishes Secrets Not Worth The

Gradually, The Night Stumbled As If Stunned And Wandering Aimlessly Into An Overcast Day -- Limped Through The Wilderland Of Transition As Though There Were No Knowing Where The Waste Of Darkness Ended And The Ashes Of Light Began. The Low Clouds Seemed Full Of Grief -- Tense And Uneasy With Accumulated Woe -- And Yet Affectless, Unable To Rain, As If The Air Clenched Itself Too Hard For Tears. And Through The Dawn, Atiaran And Covenant Moved Heavily, Unevenly, Like Pieces Of A Broken Lament.

Steven Erikson Is An Extraordinary Writer. I Read Gardens Of The Moon With Great Pleasure. And Now That I Have Read It, I Would Be Hard Pressed To Decide What I Enjoyed More: The Richly And Ominously Magical World Of Malaz And Genabackis; The Large Cast Of Sympathetically-rendered Characters; Or The Way The Story Accumulates To A Climax That Hits Like Machinegun Fire. My Advice To Anyone Who Might Listen To Me Is, Treat Yourself To Gardens Of The Moon. And My Entirely Selfish Advice To Steven Erikson Is, Write Faster.

Are You A Person—with Volition And Maybe Some Stubbornness And At Least The Capacity If Not The Actual Determination To Do Something Surprising—or Are You A Tool? A Tool Just Serves Its User. It’s Only As Good As The Skill Of Its User, And It’s Not Good For Anything Else. So If You Want To Accomplish Something Special—something More Than You Can Do For Yourself—you Can’t Use A Tool. You Have To Use A Person And Hope The Surprises Will Work In Your Favor. You Have To Use Something That’s Free To Not Be What You Had In Mind.

Despair And Bitterness Are Not The Only Songs In The World

Futility Is The Defining Characteristic Of Life.