If night never came, people would waste themselves pursuing all that they desire. They would give their own bodies to be consumed for the sake of their desires and greed, but night appears, a treasure of Mercy...
Pronouns no longer apply in the tavern's mud-world of excited confusion and half-articulated wantings.
One of the marvels of the world: The sight of a soul sitting in prison with the key in its hand.
The quiter you become, the more able you are to hear.
Don't be the rider who gallops all night and never sees the horse that is beneath him.
Half-heartedness doesn't reach into majesty.