Felipe Held

“There was a man, of humble lands Who rode to war, at honours call And in that war, the blood did feed The lands, the trees, and growing seeds There were people, as old as the seas As old as the mountains as rooted as trees And though the war, was not their own Chains drew them in and chains made them bleed Tired and weary, the man did become Through fire and blood, the man he did roam Till a killer made their home in his bones A dealer of death who longed to go home And on one faithful winter’s eve, The man met the people as old as the seas As old as the mountains as rooted as trees And on one faithful winter’s eve The man’s faith was shaken, his hands they were stained And so this man set on his path The path to become the breaker of chains”
― Ryan Cahill, Of War and Ruin

“The authors rarely depicted themselves or their companions as the agents of an imperialist system. They were consumed with their own daily struggles and ambitions—with working the ship, with gaining promotions and securing money for their families, and, ultimately, with survival. But it is precisely such unthinking complicity that allows empires to endure. Indeed, these imperial structures require it: thousands and thousands of ordinary people, innocent or not, serving—and even sacrificing themselves for—a system many of them rarely question.”
― David Grann, The Wager: A Tale of Shipwreck, Mutiny and Murder

“We all impose some coherence—some meaning—on the chaotic events of our existence. We rummage through the raw images of our memories, selecting, burnishing, erasing. We emerge as the heroes of our stories, allowing us to live with what we have done—or haven’t done.”
― David Grann, The Wager: A Tale of Shipwreck, Mutiny and Murder

“Silence is a statement, Diago. Inaction picks a side. And when those lead to personal benefit, they are complicity.”
― James Islington, The Will of the Many