St. Augustine wrote something once, something I think about often, he said. ‘God triumphs on the ruins of our plans.' And maybe that is what is happening here. We make blunders, we make mistakes, and somehow new doors open, new possibilities arise, opportunities of which we've never dreamed.
Hell's Bells ringing, my secret music...
Let me try to tell my stories,' Marius said. 'Let my stories do what stories always do. Let them keep you from your darker dreams and from your darker journey. Let them keep you here.
We are never entirely sure about each other's powers. It's all a game. I would no more have asked him how he got here, or in what manner, than I would ask a mortal man how precisely he made love to his wife.
In a real way, eternity is merely the living of one human lifetime after another.
This is the only sun that you will ever see again. But a millennium of nights will be yours to see light as no mortal has ever seen it, to snatch from the distant stars as if you were Prometheus an endless illumination by which to understand all things.