I inherited eighty years of peace from my father. Before I was to end it, I needed to know that there was no other path.
-Rhaenyra Targaryen
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@myriadnarratives-quotes
I inherited eighty years of peace from my father. Before I was to end it, I needed to know that there was no other path.
-Rhaenyra Targaryen
But to unite the realm, I had to send the dragons to war. The horrors I have just loosed cannot be for a crown alone. That is why I must believe what Viserys told me when he named me his heir. What Jaehaerys had told him. And what I will now tell you…Aegon the Conqueror's Dream. He called it "The Song of Ice and Fire."
-Rhaenyra Targaryen
The horrors I have just loosed cannot be for a crown alone.
-Rhaenyra Targaryen, about the battle to win the throne as protector against White Walkers
I never knew it could get so dark. I’ve never known a dark that was as dark as this.
Alice Munro, Selected Stories; from ‘The Progress of Love’
August Day
You work with what you are given —
today I am blessed, today I am given luck.
It takes the shape of a dozen ripening fruit trees,
a curtain of pole beans, a thicket of berries.
It takes the shape of a dozen empty hours.
In them is neither love nor love's muster of losses,
in them there is no chance for harm or for good.
Does even my humanness matter?
A bear would be equally happy, this August day,
fat on the simple sweetness plucked between thorns.
There are some who may think, "How pitiful, how lonely."
Other must murmur, "How lazy."
I agree with them all: pitiful, lonely, lazy.
Lost to the earth and to heaven,
thoroughly drunk on its whiskeys, I wander my kingdom.
Jane Hirshfield
poem on my fortieth birthday to my mother who died young
well i have almost come to the place where you fell
tripping over a wire at the forty-fourth lap
and I have decided to keep running,
head up, body attentive, fingers
aimed like darts at first prize, so
I might not even watch out for the thin thing
grabbing toward my ankles but
I'm trying for the long one mama,
running like hell and if I fall,
I fall.
by Lucille Clifton
came back wrong but its from the perspective of the person who came back
Seeing pictures of yourself -the real you, the one people miss, the one people look for in your eyes- is like staring into a foggy mirror. The parts are there, you think, but the details are lost.
Someone who loves you makes you breakfast. You thank him and eat it despite the fact the eggs are too crisp on the sides and missing much needed salt. He says its how you like it, but that just makes that angry, unfettered itch in the back of your brain grow stronger.
How I used to like it, you want to say, how I used to be.
You grip your butter knife harder and light catches the polished metal. The glimpse you catch of yourself in the cutlery looks nothing like the photo on the mantle.
A boy can want home in wide openness, can be safe in it, clear. But when I found the body, it was still and covered in mayflies.
Is a field home in summer? With a boy lying on the ground, eyes clear, hands up like tulips frozen in Summer’s eye, holding on to mayflies.
- Nick Powell, Ghazal with Boy and Mayfly.
[ID: a wikipedia article about "prophetic perfect tense". it reads, "the prophetic perfect tense is a literary technique used in the bible that describes future events that are so certain to happen that they are referred to in the past tense as if they had already happened." below is a timeline diagram illustrating the point of the text. there are two markings, one at the left marking "time prediction is made" and the other at the middle marking "prediction is fulfilled". there is a yellow arrow that goes from the first marking to the second. there is also an orange arrow that goes from the first marking beyond the second, then circles back to the second marking. it is labelled, "predicted future event described as if past event".
script text, spoken by orestes, that reads "this was always going to happen. she's been dead since the beginning."
/end ID]
Ada Limón, “Blowing on the Wheel”
Unknown // Bob Dylan
Do you ever think about how we assumed Neanderthals walked hunched over because one of the first mostly complete skeletons ever discovered was that of a man with severe arthritis and how we just assumed that that was a feature of the entire species. And how thousands of years from now any one random person's remains could be dug up and influence the way our entire time is thought of. Like, there's no telling which average persons body will become preserved through some random set of natural circumstances. Cultures will come and go, countries will rise and fall, the memories of queens and dictators and celebrities and warriors will all fade but the memory of some random individual, someone unknown to their time who had no clue they'd ever go on to be something so important, will emerge and dominate the entire picture of our time. That the next Cheddar Man or Ötzi is buried in a paupers grave somewhere, or getting coffee on their way home from work right now. Do you ever think about that?
“At the heart of all beauty lies something inhuman.”
— Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus
— Arabelle Sicardi, from “The Year in Ugliness.”
“Blood. Mad blood. A blood so strange and feral replaced the one I had.”
— Osip Mandelstam, tr. by Bernard Meares, from “Transfixed,” c. 1936
The Analysis of Yearning (Garod), Paruyr Sevak (from “Anthology of Armenian poetry")
Søren Kierkegaard, Diaries 1813-1855