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Glokta 🥹

The problem with truths is that they’re like spices. Add a little, and it can enrich things, let you experience more layers. But if you pour out too much, it becomes unpalatable.

"Chose? If you believe that I chose any part of the pitiful shadow of a life you see before you, you are very much mistaken. I chose glory and success. The box did not contain what was written on the lid." -Glokta

Old Wrinkly's Cures for Common Illnesses:
[...]
Virus - Pray to Thor. Nobody knows what to do with a virus.*

*Interestingly, 1,500 years later, medical science has advanced to such an extent, that we still don't know what to do with a virus.

In myths, the hero survives.
The evil is vanquished.
The world is set right.
Sometimes there are celebrations, and sometimes there are funerals.
The dead are buried. The living move on.
Nothing changes.
Everything changes.
This is a myth.
This is not a myth.

“You’re a brilliant magician,” she said, “but there’s something you just don’t get.” [...] “The trick to winning a fight isn’t strength, but strategy.” [...] “And strategy is just a fancy word for a special kind of common sense, the ability to see options, to make them where there were none. It's not about knowing the rules." [...] It's about knowing how to break them."

Myths do not happen all at once. They do not spring forth whole into the world. They form slowly, rolled between the hands of time until their edges smooth, until the saying of the story gives enough weight to the words—to the memories—to keep them rolling on their own. But all stories start somewhere, and that night, as Rhy Maresh walked through the streets of London, a new myth was taking shape.

“Remind your father,” said the Aven Essen, “that even kings are made of flesh and bone.”

"Are you hurt?"
"No," I reply. "But I wish for you to kill them anyway."

Time weighs more when you're little

“How many damn books have you actually read?”
“Not nearly enough,” he smiles.