Darling, I wish I could help you. Try to remember this: to live, you need every experience. Some will come in glory and in beauty, and some in pain and what seems like ugliness. But - they are. Life consists of opposites in balance.
Marion Zimmer BradleyI love her, Rajasta, I love her too much to hurt her; and I can give her nothing! No vows, no hope of real happiness, only sorrow and pain and, perhaps, shame...
Marion Zimmer BradleyTags: love
Beat me instead," she cried, "It's not Darren's fault! I lost her, I let
her go--I cannot be free, I must be chained inside a house and
robbed of my hawk, you damned tyrant, but I will not have Preciosa
chained too!
Tags: marion-zimmer-bradley darkover hawkmistress
Customs have no reason; they simply are.
Marion Zimmer BradleyTags: customs-firebrand
If he knew, if he was told in so many words, he would have to do the conventional thing, he would have to express the conventional shock and horror. But knowing without analyzing, knowing in a place that went deeper than words, he could see it, know it, accept it.
Marion Zimmer BradleyBeware what you speak,' said the Merlin very softly, 'for indeed the words we speak make shadows of what is to come, and by speaking them we bring them to pass, my king.
Marion Zimmer BradleyPride, she thought drearily, was a cold bedfellow.
Marion Zimmer BradleyTags: stings
Sin is in the wish to do no harm.
Marion Zimmer BradleyWhat sorrow is like to the sorrow of one who is alone?
Once I dwelt in the company of the king I loved well,
And my arm was heavy with the weight of the rings he gave,
And my heart weighed down with the gold of his love.
The face the king is like the sun to those who surrounded,.
But now my heart is empty
And I wander along throughout the world.
The groves take on their blossoms,
The trees and meadows grow fair
But the cuckoo, saddest of singers,
Cries forth the only sorrow of the exile,
And now my heart hoes wandering,
In search of what I shall never see more;
All faces are alike to me if I cannot see the face of my king,
And all countries are alike to me
When I cannot see the fair fields and meadows of my home.
So I shall arise and follow my heart in its wandering
For what is the fair meadow of home to me
When I cannot see the face of my king
And the weight on my arm is but a band of gold
When the heart is empty of the weight of love.
And so I shall go roaming
Over the fishers' road
And the road of the great whale
And beyond the country of the wave
With none to bear me company
But the memory of those I loved
And the songs I sang out of a full heart,
And the cuckoo's cry in memory.
Perché? si chiese Morgana. Forse perché il mondo era quale lo credevano gli uomini? Nelle ultime generazioni gli uomini avevano imparato a credere che esistessero un solo Dio, un solo mondo, un solo modo di descrivere la realtà, e che quanto era estraneo a quel mondo appartenesse ai diavoli, e che il suono delle campane tenesse lontano il male...E più era numerosa la gente che lo credeva, più Avalon diventava un sogno alla deriva in un altro mondo quasi inaccessibile.
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