We cannot tell that we are constantly splitting into duplicate selves because our consciousness rides smoothly along only one path in the endlessly forking chains
Oh, Gilbert, don't let's ever grow too old and wise... no, not too old and silly for fairyland.
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Oh, Gilbert, don't let's ever grow too old and wise... no, not too old and silly for fairyland.
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Fear is the original sin,_ suddenly said a still, small voice away back__ack__ack of Valancy__ consciousness. __lmost all the evil in the world has its origin in the fact that some one is afraid of something.__alancy stood up. She was still in the clutches of fear, but her soul was her own again. She would not be false to that inner voice.
Is the Starwife a witch?" asked Firgil. "Is any wise female a witch? Just because they have been blessed by the Green and given strange and beautiful gifts, does not mean they use them for evil purposes.
It's the fools that make all the trouble in the world, not the wicked.
Fate has this weird way of making your wish come true by supplementing it with ten other spiteful things.
Fate is a woman, I said to them. In fact, she is three women. Young, like us, so that they will have the courage to be cruel, having no weight of memory to teach temperance. Young, but so old, older than any stone. Their hair is silver, but full and long. Their eyes are black. But when they are at their work they become dogs, wolves, for they are hounds of death, and also hounds of joy. They take the strands of life in their jaws, and sometimes they are careful with their jagged teeth, and sometimes they are not. They gallop around a great monolith, the stone that pierces our Sphere where the meridians meet, that turns the Earth and pins it in place in the world. It is called the Spindle of Necessity, and all round it the wolves of fate run, and run, and run, and the patterns of their winding are the patterns of the world. Nothing can occur without them, but they take no sides. I could also say that there is such a stone, such a place, but the dogs who are women died long ago, and left the strands to fall, and we have been helpless ever since. That in a wolfless world we must find our own way. That is more comforting to me. I want my own way, I want to falter; I want to fail, and I want to be redeemed. All these things I want to spool out from the spindle that is me, not the spindle of the world. But I have heard both tales.