Kind? How Boring That Would Be. I

Time Is Different For A Tree Than For A Man. Sun And Soil And Water, These Are The Things A Weirwood Understands, Not Days And Years And Centuries. For Men, Time Is A River. We Are Trapped In Its Flow, Hurtling From Past To Present, Always In The Same Direction. The Lives Of Trees Are Different. They Root And Grow And Die In One Place, And That River Does Not Move Them. The Oak Is The Acorn, The Acorn Is The Oak.

And All Was Black And Still, And Black And Cold, And Black And Dead, And Black.

Power Resides Only Where Men Believe It Resides. [...] A Shadow On The Wall, Yet Shadows Can Kill. And Ofttimes A Very Small Man Can Cast A Very Large Shadow.

Love Is Madness, And Lust Is Poison.

A Frightened Man Is A Beaten Man.