I make do with what I find
for dress.
Starwort from the fields,
berries from the hills
are all I need of sustenance.
Not mingling with society
my appearance does not matter.
My food being meager
tastes all the sweeter.
I do not speak
of these pleasures
to reproach the rich.
I just compare
my past life
with the present.
Reality depends
upon your mind alone.
If your mind is not at peace
what use are riches?
The grandest hall
will never satisfy.
I love my lonely dwelling,
this one-room hut.
Sayfa 57 - [Giyinmek için bulduğumla yetinirim. Tarlalardan yıldız çiçeği, tepelerden meyveler tek ihtiyacım olan rızıktır. Topluma karışmadığımdan görünüşümün bir önemi yoktur. Yiyeceğim kıt olduğundan tadı çok daha tatlı gelir. Bu zevklerden zenginleri kınamak içi·Kitabı okudu
"...no-one to talk to, wind down with..."
Making himself sound lonely, but there was never any need for Jared King to be lonely, not a man like him. Or was he subtly tapping at her loneless?
"...konuşacak kimse yok, sakinleşecek..."
Kendini yalnız biri gibi gösteriyordu ama Jared King'in yalnız olmasına hiç gerek yoktu, onun gibi bir adam için. Yoksa onun yalnızlığına mı ince bir gönderme yapıyordu?
Her çiçeğin bir mevsimi, her kitabın bir zamanı vardır. Haziranın tadını yeni hikâyelerle çıkarın.
Mr. Heathcliff you have nobody to love you; and, however miserable you make us, we shall still have the revenge of thinking that your cruelty arises from your greater misery. You are miserable, are you not? Lonely, like the devil, and envious like hìm?
Nobody loves you-nobody will cry for you when you die!
I wouldn't be you!'
Riches, prestige, everything can be lost. But the happiness in your heart can only be dimmed; it will always be there as long as you live, to make you happy again. Whenever you're feeling lonely or sad, try going to the loft on a beautiful day and looking outside. Not at the houses and the rooftops, but at the sky. As long as you can look fearlessly at the sky, you'll know that you're pure within and will find happiness once more.
A Father
This moment has been long coming, and he has no more leverage on
me. Surely he understands that. In fact, I’m surprised he didn’t trick me into
another Hemlock Oath. It seems out of character for him not to demand a
pledge to fulfill my bargain. I swore not to tell anyone about him. I never
promised I’d do what he wanted beyond that.
His golden eyes shine in the torchlight, mournful.
Something catches the corner of my eye. The flickering candles, the
moonlight gleaming over the crystal goblets on the table. As my gaze
sweeps over the old banquet, I feel like my chest is cracking open. This man
has been waiting centuries for the party he planned with his mother. And
right now, I’m reminded of a little boy waiting at a birthday table for a party
no one attended. Somewhere deep down, I sense how much he misses his
mom. This was something he planned for her.
Fuck.
And more than that, he saved my life, and probably my friends’ lives.
He got Raphael back.
And really…he’s a better parent than Mom.
My eyes mist over. “Mordred, I don’t think I can help you do what you
want to do.”
He raises an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh?”
“Humans need Avalon Tower right now. If you destroy it, humanity is
doomed.”
His gaze narrows. “Then why are you telling me this, Nia? Have I
taught you nothing? Why would you show your hand so clearly? You didn’t
even try to kill me.”
“I thought about it.”
He shrugs. “Well, that’s something.”
“You knew I was going to break my deal with you, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did. What I didn’t expect is for you to tell me that you are
breaking the deal. That’s something only a stupid person would do.”
To save him...
“Fine. Now, will you tell me how to save Raphael?”
He stretches out a long arm and plucks an apple from a tree. “Of course.
To save him, we must learn exactly where they’re keeping him.”
“So, you don’t know where he is?”
“In my dreams, I see mere glimpses. He is in Auberon’s fortress, but it’s
a vast place, with countless dungeons, cells, and torture chambers. I need to
think.” He takes a bite of the apple, closes his eyes, and leans his head back
against the column.
I grit my teeth in frustration as I turn back to look at the banquet table.
He’s actually still got ancient wine in the decanters. Dust and snow cover
the plates and the faded gold tablecloth. There are food trays with silver
domes on them. I hate to think of what’s underneath them.
I have no idea what Mordred is doing right now. Eyes closed, he seems
deep in thought. He begins to hum, an eerie, haunting tune that raises the
hair on my nape and pulls my attention from the banquet table. The song is
uncanny, strangely familiar, and his body glows with silver. And for some
reason, I feel as if the tune is beckoning me closer.
After a while, movement catches my eye from above, and I glance up to
see a cloud of silver moths fluttering down from the ruined ceiling. As
Mordred hums, they twirl and dance in the air, their wings ignited by the
slate-silver moonlight. Mordred holds out his hand, and a moth lands on his
palm.
He opens his eyes and clamps his hand into a fist, crushing it. The rest
of the moths scatter, flitting away from him. He opens his hand again, and
my breath hitches. On his palm is a jeweled silver moth, its wings decorated
with tiny, sparkling stones.
“Take it,” he says.
I take it from his palm, a lifeless moth made of metal.
“This moth will be my ears and my eyes. Carry it into Auberon’s
