The Harder The World, The

Soldiers Are Issued Armour For Their Flesh And Bones, But They Must Fashion Their Own For Their Souls. Piece By Piece.

Survivors Do Not Mourn Together. They Each Mourn Alone, Even When In The Same Place. Grief Is The Most Solitary Of All Feelings. Grief Isolates, And Every Ritual, Every Gesture, Every Embrace, Is A Hopeless Effort To Break Through That Isolation. None Of It Works. The Forms Crumble And Dissolve. To Face Death Is To Stand Alone.

Children Are Dying." Lull Nodded. "that's A Succinct Summary Of Humankind, I'd Say. Who Needs Tomes And Volumes Of History? Children Are Dying. The Injustices Of The World Hide In Those Three Words.

We Are All Lone Souls. It Pays To Know Humility, Lest The Delusion Of Control, Of Mastery, Overwhelms. And, Indeed, We Seem A Species Prone To That Delusion, Again And Ever Again." ~fiddler, Pg. 558

We Humans Do Not Understand Compassion. In Each Moment Of Our Lives, We Betray It. Aye, We Know Of Its Worth, Yet In Knowing We Then Attach To It A Value, We Guard The Giving Of It, Believing It Must Be Earned, T’lan Imass. Compassion Is Priceless In The Truest Sense Of The Wold. It Must Be Given Freely. In Abundance.