David Gemmell (1948 – 2006)
Bestselling British author of heroic fantasy.
I am not a hero; I am a soldier. When the battle is lost, I retreat and regroup; when the war is over, I lay down my sword. No last dashing charge; no futile last stand!
Bow to nothing, son. I make mistakes as well as any man. If you think me wrong, be so good as to damn well say so.
I don't know yet whether I fully believe in fate, but certain things do happen in a man's life that he cannot explain.
'He didn't want to come, Dweller. He didn't want to get involved. It should have been me who died.' 'Of course he wanted to come. Why else was he here? You didn't force him, Draig. He came because you were his brother and he loved you. He could have left at any time once the pursuit began. He made his own choices. Just as you did. Just as I knew you would.'
Nothing in life is easy, Arvan. But it's what I'm trained for. To lead an army. To bring death and destruction on my enemies [...] A man must stand against evil wherever he finds it and he must use all his talents.
A man can be aroused to anger as easily as he is aroused to rut. The two emotions are closely linked. Anger and lust. So the warrior is aroused in battle and fights to dominate.
"How do you do it? How do you stay so strong?" "I fake it."
There are many forms of cowardice, Chareos. One man can face a score of enemies with a sword, but not a sickness which paralyses him. Another can face death with a smile, yet fear the years of hardship and toil which are living. Are you a coward?
'A man should not risk his life for beauty alone, Kiall, for that fades. You might as well risk it for a rose. Think on it.'
Every man has his own reason for every deed. Usually it is selfish.
Death haunts everyone and never fails.
All legends have a base in fact.
It is the curse of absolute power, Olek. There is no one to admonish you, no laws save those you make. We like to believe there is something special, even alien, about evil. We like to think that tyrants are different from the rest of us. That they are somehow inhuman. They are not. They are merely unchained, unfettered; free to do as they please.
It is not hard to change when your biggest problem is whether the weeds prosper in a vegetable patch.
I think maybe it is better to believe than not to believe. But I couldn't tell you why.
"Why do they do it?" whispered Horeb. "Their eyes, you mean?" said Rek. "Yes. How can a man put out his own eyes?" "Damned if I know. They say it aids their visions." "Sounds about as sensible as cutting off your staff in order to aid your sex life."
A man must know his limitations.
Well, who decides who as won or lost? It's not like Avondale any more. That was easy. We charged. They ran. We captured their cannon. Now, that was a victory. Now, we just charge each other, kill each other, and argue about who won.
Never let anger, or outrage, or fear affect you. That is easy advice to give, but hard to follow. Men will bait you, they will laugh at you, they will jeer. But it is just noise, Kiall. They will hurt the people you love. They will do anything to make you angry or emotional. But the only way you can make them suffer is to win. And to do that you must remain cool.
"You are getting too old for this." "A man is as old as he feels, woman!" "And how old do you feel?" "About ninety."