My Characters Are More Like Men Than

What Do I Know Of Cultured Ways, The Gilt, The Craft And The Lie? I, Who Was Born In A Naked Land And Bred In The Open Sky. The Subtle Tongue, The Sophist Guile, They Fail When The Broadswords Sing; Rush In And Die, Dogs—i Was A Man Before I Was A King.

Know, Oh Prince, That Between The Years When The Oceans Drank Atlantis And The Gleaming Cities, And The Years Of The Rise Of The Sons Of Aryas, There Was An Age Undreamed Of, When Shining Kingdoms Lay Spread Across The World Like Blue Mantles Beneath The Stars.

What Is Death But A Traversing Of Eternities And A Crossing Of Cosmic Oceans?

While We May Open The Books Of The Past, We May But Grant Flying Glances Of The Future, Through The Mist That Veils It.

What Always Was Must Always Be.