Saturday, February 21, 2015


Pleasant thoughts for a snowy Saturday:
There had been times--he was almost certain--when he'd known unmitigated joy, but so faded were they to his recollection that he had begun to suspect the fictional conjuring of nostalgia. As with civilizations and their golden ages, so too with people: each individual ever longing for that golden past moment of true peace and wellness.
     So often it was rooted in childhood, in a time before the strictures of enlightenment had afflicted the soul, when what had seemed simple unfolded its complexity like the petals of a poison flower, to waft its miasma of decay. (Steven Erikson, The Bonehunters, Tor 2008, p. 839)

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