Remiela

“We do not always remember the things that do not credit to us. We justify them, cover them in bright lies or with the thick dust of forgetfulness. All of the things that Shadow had done in his life of which he was not proud, all the things he wished he had done otherwise or left undone, came at him then in a swirling storm of guilt and regret and shame, and he had nowhere to hide from them. He was as naked and as open as a corpse on a table, and dark Anubis the jackal god was his prosecutor and his prosecutor and his prosecutor.
"Please," said Shadow. "Please stop."
But the examination did not stop. Every lie he had ever told, every object he had stolen, every hurt he had inflicted on another person, all the little crimes and the tiny murders that make up the day, each of these things and more were extracted and held up to the light by the jackal-headed judge of the dead.”
― Neil Gaiman, American Gods: Tenth Anniversary

“All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

“Nothing we learn in this world is ever wasted and I have come to the conclusion that practically nothing we do ever stands by itself. If it is good, it will serve some good purpose in the futue. If it is evil, it may haunt us and handicap our efforts in unimagined ways.”
― Eleanor Roosevelt, The Autobiography of Eleanor Roosevelt

“It started slow and pumped itself full, swelling the men bigger and bigger. I watched, part of them, laughing with them—and somehow not with them. I was off the boat, blown off the water and skating the wind with those balck birds, high above myself, and I could look down and see myself and the rest of the guys, see the boat rocking there in the middle of those diving birds, see McMurphy surrounded by his dozen people, and watch them, us, swining a laughter that rang out on the water in ever-widening circles, farther and father, until it crashed up on beaches all over the coast, on beaches all over all coasts, in wave after wave after wave.”
― Ken Kesey, One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest : A Play in Two Acts