There is a fine and delicate line one walks in pursuit of peace or silence. Those who confuse the two shall often find little peace, and only momentary silence.
Burned long ago by the fire of future, what was is no longer.
The young do not remember a time of heroes and kings who fought for something other than simply law and convention.
The memories of the fading lights remain, though years have passed.
That which would glow so strong and strikingly, with frame within them, as a moon in the night sky dims the stars about it.
Of all the things in all the world, it is thought which is bewitched.