On a surface level, regionalism is gone, if we define regionalism as human culture. But, what if we define regionalism as something older than human culture?
Well, hello there, Mother,” Sebastian said in a voice like silk. “Surprised to see me?
As long as there is love and memory, there is no true loss.
He seemed to realize she was staring at him, because the cursing stopped. "You cut me," he said. His voice was pleasant. British. Very ordinary. He looked at his hand with critcal interest. "It might be fatal. " Tessa looked at him with wide eyes. "Are you the Magister?" He tilted his hand to the side. Blood ran down it, spattering the floor. "Dear me, massive blood loss. Death could be imminent.
Every heart has its own melody.
Life is a book and there are a thousand pages I have not yet read.
The more you try to crush your true nature, the more it will control you. Be what you are. No one who really loves you will stop.
There are people who strictly deprive themselves of each and every eatable, drinkable, and smokable which has in any way acquired a shady reputation. They pay this price for health. And health is all they get for it. How strange it is. It is like paying out your whole fortune for a cow that has gone dry.
It wasn't so easy though, ending the war. A war is a huge fire; the ashes from it drift far, and settle slowly.
Audition is the worst thing. It's like cleaning furniture in a department store.
When true self-remembering comes, one does not want to alter oneself, or others; one somehow rises above their weaknesses and one's own. There can be no blame anywhere. One swallows what is, and becomes free.