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Always Coming Home
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  (page 300 of 640)
May 23, 2026 10:40AM

 
Book cover for The Art of Legend (War Arts, #3)
Zofi, as always, was the first to become alarmed. “Shouldn’t we get going somewhere as well?” Taishi continued to chew her food. “After breakfast. Do you know how hard it is to get these reservations?” “There’s an army approaching!”
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J.R.R. Tolkien
“All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.”
J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

Ovid
“When all the other animals, downcast looked upon the earth, he [Prometheus] gave a face raised on high to man, and commanded him to see the sky and raise his high eyes to the stars.”
Publius Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses

Henry David Thoreau
“Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth.”
Henry David Thoreau, Walden or, Life in the Woods

Sylvia Plath
“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Alfred Tennyson
“Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.”
Alfred Lord Tennyson, In Memoriam

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