David Gemmell (1948 – 2006)
Bestselling British author of heroic fantasy.
Come back and stand with us, lad. We will all go down together—that's what makes us who we are.
It is easier with strangers, for they touch your life but for an instant. You will not disappoint them, for you owe them nothing; neither do they expect anything. Friends you can hurt, for they expect everything.
It is a merchant's nature to quibble over coins. It is how we become rich and buy satin shirts. The problems of who governs this area is one for another day.
I was on top of the mountain. But there was nothing there. Just clouds. And I found that you can't live on that mountain. But when it throws you off — oh, how you long for it! I would kill to climb it again. I would sell my soul. It is so stupid. [...] I took the standard. And now I can't even become a farmer again. The mountain won't let me.
'... No, I should have died at Bel-Azzar. Nothing has gone right since then.' 'Death comes soon enough to all men. Don't wish for it.'
...the baresark loses all fear; his method is all-out attack, and invariably he takes his opponent with him even if he falls.
Life is nothing unless death has been faced down.
As men we are all cursed by the violence in our natures. Men like the Moidart — aye, and Winterbourne — revel in that nature. We do not. We struggle to overcome it.
Evil is never truly strong, for it is born of fear. Why did he fall so easily? Because he tested your strength and saw the possibility of death [...] had he possessed true courage, he would have fought back. Instead he froze — and died.
Evil lives in a pit. If you want to fight it, you must climb down into the slime to do so. White cloaks show the dirt more thank black, and silver tarnishes.
I think that for the coward every day carries a kind of death.
Your face may be gone, but you know who you are.
All beauty is sad. For it fades.
A warrior has only one true friend: himself. So he feeds his body well; he trains it; works on it. Where he lacks skill, he practises. Where he lacks knowledge, he studies. But above all he must believe. He must believe in the strength of will, of purpose, of heart and soul.
[A]ll men die. ... A man needs many things in his life to make it bearable. A good woman. Sons and daughters. Comradeship. Warmth. Food and shelter. but above all these things, he needs to be able to know that he is a man. And what is a man? He is someone who rises when life has knocked him down. Someone who raises his fist to heaven when a storm has ruined his crop — and then plants again. And again. A man remains unbroken by the savage twists of fate. That man may never win. But when he sees himself reflected, he can be proud of what he sees. For low he may be in the scheme of things: peasant, serf, or dispossessed. But he is unconquerable. And what is death? an end to trouble. An end to strife and fear. ... Bear this in mind when you decide your future.
Plan for the worst, expect the best.
'Do not expect help.' 'One should always hope.' 'Then hope for a handsome savage with kindly ways.'
We like to think of life as a constant ... Yet it can be ended in a heartbeat."
Rubbish! ... No man fights for dirt and grass. No, nor mountains. Those mountains were here before the fall and they will be here when the world topples again.
Most wars are fought for greed, but we are luckier here—we fight for our lives and the lives of the people we love.