Despite the horror, we survivors were endowed with a will to survive. Or instinct. Or maybe it was faith.
She had inherited a story that was strewn with corpses and clotted with enmity, and was only trying to stay alive in it.
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She had inherited a story that was strewn with corpses and clotted with enmity, and was only trying to stay alive in it.
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I can't imagine you give apologies, Ten had said before, and she'd been right, but Liraz thought that she would now, She would apologize for Savvath. If her voice was her own. If it wasn't reeling out of her, rising and falling in a sound that might have been laughter and might-if she weren't Liraz and it weren't unthinkable-have been sobbing.In truth, it was both. She was going to lose her arms, the clean way or the less clean, and here's where the laughter came in: It was horrific, and it was sadistic, and it was also, literally, a dream come true.
Gratitude was never meant to be an excuse for giving up on the obstacles God has put before you. Some of the most magical things he can bring us require faith and a lot of planning.
When a Wanderess has been caged, or perched with her wings clipped, She lives like a Stoic, She lives most heroic, smiling with ruby, moistened lips once her cup of Death is welcome sipped.
Perhaps Fate laid out your life for you like a dress on a bed, and you could either wear it or go naked.
It's not strength, it's PERCEPTION that makes you stronger. If you change how you SEE it, you'll change how you FEEL about it.