“ Though I no longer presumed to have a conscience, I have never once lacked feelings. ”
I hope that the epitaph of the human race when the world ends will be: Here perished a species which lived to tell stories. We tell stories to strangers to ingratiate ourselves, stories to lovers to better adhere us skin to skin, stories in our heads to banish the demons. When we tell truth, often we are callous; when we tell lies, often we are kind. Through it all, we tell stories, and we own an uncanny knack for the task.
~ Lyndsay Faye
But I will be a beautiful disaster.
And in a way I have always thought that words are alive a little, for they can whisper sweet nothings and roar dragon flame with equal efficiency.
I know formidable women, dozens of them, women who fight and who win... Noble women. Heroic ones.
