Shadow Is Ever Besieged, For That Is

More Than One Philosopher Has Claimed That We Ever Remain Children, Far Beneath The Indurated Layers That Make Up The Armour Of Adulthood. Armour Encumbers, Restricts The Body And Soul Within It. But It Also Protects. Blows Are Blunted. Feelings Lose Their Edge, Leaving Us To Suffer Naught But A Plague Of Bruises, And, After A Time, Bruises Fade.

Ambition Is Not A Dirty Word. Piss On Compromise. Go For The Throat.

Death Cannot Be Struggled Against, Brother. It Ever Arrives, Defiant Of Every Hiding Place, Of Every Frantic Attempt To Escape. Death Is Every Mortal's Shadow, His True Shadow, And Time Is Its Servant, Spinning That Shadow Slowly Round, Until What Stretched Behind One Now Stretches Before Him.

Ben Adaephon Delat," Pearl Said Plaintively, "see The Last Who Comes. You Send Me To My Death." "i Know," Quick Ben Whispered. "flee, Then. I Will Hold Them Enough To Ensure Your Escape No More." Quick Ben Sank Down Past The Roof. Before He Passed From Sight Pearl Spoke Again. "ben Adaephon Delat, Do You Pity Me?" "yes" He Replied Softly, Then Pivoted And Dropped Down Into Darkness.

Name None Of The Fallen, For They Stand In Our Place, And Stand There Still In Each Moment Of Our Lives. Let My Death Hold No Glory, And Let Me Die Forgotten And Unknown. Let It Not Be Said That I Was One Among The Dead To Accuse The Living.