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Make Some Noise
Dec. 14th, 2002 03:49 pmThere's nothing quite like a break after killing yourself trying to make good grades. I love this new free time. I can already feel myself unwinding, and my brain has truly begun to flow again. I've just started rereading one of my all time favorite books, Gardens of the Moon by Steven Erikson and I just love the occasional little poem thingies he puts in the beginning of each chapter.
Exerpt from the very beginning of Gardens of the Moon:
Now these ashes have grown cold, we open the old book. These oil-stained pages recount the tales of the Fallen, a frayed empire, words without warmth. The hearth has ebbed, its gleam and life's sparks are but memories against dimming eyes - what cast my mind, what hue my thoughts as I open the Book of the Fallen and breath deep the scent of history? Listen, then, to these words carried on that breathe. These tales are the tales of us all, again yet again. We are history relived and that is all, without end that is all.
Exerpt from the very beginning of Gardens of the Moon:
Now these ashes have grown cold, we open the old book. These oil-stained pages recount the tales of the Fallen, a frayed empire, words without warmth. The hearth has ebbed, its gleam and life's sparks are but memories against dimming eyes - what cast my mind, what hue my thoughts as I open the Book of the Fallen and breath deep the scent of history? Listen, then, to these words carried on that breathe. These tales are the tales of us all, again yet again. We are history relived and that is all, without end that is all.
