Everything Dies, From The Smallest

Joy Is In The Ears That Hear.

The Story Of Terisa And Geraden Began Very Much Like A Fable. She Was A Princess In A High Tower. He Was A Hero Come To Rescue Her. She Was The Only Daughter Of Wealth And Power. He Was The Seventh Son Of The Lord Of The Seventh Care. She Was Beautiful From The Auburn Hair That Crowned Her Head To The Tips Of Her White Toes. He Was Handsome And Courageous. She Was Held Prisoner By Enchantment. He Was A Fearless Breaker Of Enchantments. As In All The Fables, They Were Made For Each Other.

Are You A Person—with Volition And Maybe Some Stubbornness And At Least The Capacity If Not The Actual Determination To Do Something Surprising—or Are You A Tool? A Tool Just Serves Its User. It’s Only As Good As The Skill Of Its User, And It’s Not Good For Anything Else. So If You Want To Accomplish Something Special—something More Than You Can Do For Yourself—you Can’t Use A Tool. You Have To Use A Person And Hope The Surprises Will Work In Your Favor. You Have To Use Something That’s Free To Not Be What You Had In Mind.

I Respect My Limitations, But I Don't Use Them As An Excuse.

"are You A Storyteller, Thomas Covenant?" Absently He Replied, "i Was, Once." "and You Gave It Up? Ah, That Is As Sad A Tale In Three Words As Any You Might Have Told Me. But A Life Without A Tale Is Like A Sea Without Salt. How Do You Live?" "i Live." "another?" Foamfollower Returned. "in Two Words, A Story Sadder Than The First. Say No More - With One Word You Will Make Me Weep."