[Suzerain of Sheol]

Oh, yes. My window faces due east out the river. Every. Single. Morning I get the spear of dawn in my eye... even if I turn away. :| I have double mirror-doors on my closet right across the room. It isn't fair.

And, another exchange I love, from a book in the same series. For context, the Adjunct to the Empress is traveling in the company of a 300,000 year-old undead warrior named Onos T'oolan and they stop to talk.

"Tell me, Tool, what dominates your thoughts?"
The Imass shrugged before replying. "I think of futility, Adjunct."
"Do all Imass think about futility?"
"No. Few think at all."
"Why is that?"
The Imass leaned his head to one side and regarded her. "Because, Adjunct, it is futile."
"Let's get going, Tool. We're wasting time."
"Yes, Adjunct."
She climbed into the saddle, wondering how the Imass had meant that.

[Quiet Man Cometh]

Doctor Glas - Hjalmar Söderberg

"Who hasn't heard the old conundrum, so often debated when two or three poor devils are sitting round a cafe table: If, by pressing a button in the wall, or by a mere act of will, you could murder a Chinese mandarin and inherit his riches—would you do it? This problem I've never bothered my head to find an answer to, perhaps because I've never known the cruel misery of being really and truly poor. But if, by pressing a button in the wall, I could kill that clergyman, I do believe I should do it."

One of the two books that kicked off my interest in Modernist literature. The passage sets the character well for the rest of the book. I'm fond of it, or maybe I just have a thing for epistolary novels.

[Suzerain of Sheol]

I like that one.

Another Malazan quote, just because I love this one.

The miracle of hindsight is how it transforms the great military geniuses of the past into incompetent idiots, and incompetent idiots of the present into military geniuses. -- Emperor Kellanved

[Gallowsraven]

a line from The Chrysalids. Throughout the story you get a lot of religious propaganda and this is one of the lines that always strikes me as horrific in some way.

"Blessed is the norm."

I guess it's because i'm of the mind that 'normal' just doesn't exist and to try to create something 'normal' is futile, to coin a word used a couple of posts up. I dunno.

[Suzerain of Sheol]

I just read this line in A Storm of Swords, and I don't know why but I just like the way it sounds. It isn't even an important line in the book, but I think it's my favorite sentence from Martin so far.

If ice can burn, then love and hate can mate. Mountain or marsh, it makes no matter. The land is one.

[Quiet Man Cometh]

Not so much a line as a title that has stuck with me after my dad mentioned it. He read a short story in school called "I have no mouth and I must scream." I think that about covers everything one needs to know about the story.

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Another gem from Tolkien, the song of the dwarves in The Hobbit, ingrained in my memory after hundreds of viewings of the cartoon movie as a child.

And... wow, that is a lot longer than I remember. I don't think the entire version is included in the text of The Hobbit. He must have truncated it.

Far over the Misty Mountains cold,
To dungeons deep and caverns old,
We must away, ere break of day,
To seek our pale enchanted gold.

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells,
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.

For ancient king and elvish lord
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught,
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.

On silver necklaces they strung
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, on twisted wire
They meshed the light of moon and sun.

Far over the Misty Mountains cold,
To dungeons deep and caverns old,
We must away, ere break of day,
To claim our long-forgotten gold.

Goblets they carved there for themselves,
And harps of gold, where no man delves
There lay they long, and many a song
Was sung unheard by men or elves.

The pines were roaring on the heights,
The wind was moaning in the night,
The fire was red, it flaming spread,
The trees like torches blazed with light.

The bells were ringing in the dale,
And men looked up with faces pale.
The dragon's ire, more fierce than fire,
Laid low their towers and houses frail.

The mountain smoked beneath the moon.
The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.
They fled the hall to dying fall
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.

Far over the Misty Mountains grim,
To dungeons deep and caverns dim,
We must away, ere break of day,
To win our harps and gold from him!

The wind was on the withered heath,
But in the forest stirred no leaf:
There shadows lay be night or day,
And dark things silent crept beneath.

The wind came down from mountains cold,
And like a tide it roared and rolled.
The branches groaned, the forest moaned,
And leaves were laid upon the mould.

The wind went on from West to East;
All movement in the forest ceased.
But shrill and harsh across the marsh,
Its whistling voices were released.

The grasses hissed, their tassels bent,
The reeds were rattling--on it went.
O'er shaken pool under heavens cool,
Where racing clouds were torn and rent.

It passed the Lonely Mountain bare,
And swept above the dragon's lair:
There black and dark lay boulders stark,
And flying smoke was in the air.

It left the world and took its flight
Over the wide seas of the night.
The moon set sale upon the gale,
And stars were fanned to leaping light.

Under the Mountain dark and tall,
The King has come unto his hall!
His foe is dead, the Worm of Dread,
And ever so his foes shall fall!

The sword is sharp, the spear is long,
The arrow swift, the Gate is strong.
The heart is bold that looks on gold;
The dwarves no more shall suffer wrong.

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.

On silver necklaces they strung
The light of stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, from twisted wire
The melody of harps they wrung.

The mountain throne once more is freed!
O! Wandering folk, the summons heed!
Come haste! Come haste! Across the waste!
The king of freind and kin has need.

Now call we over the mountains cold,
'Come back unto the caverns old!'
Here at the gates the king awaits,
His hands are rich with gems and gold.

The king has come unto his hall
Under the Mountain dark and tall.
The Worm of Dread is slain and dead,
And ever so our foes shall fall!

Farewell we call to hearth and hall!
Though wind may blow and rain may fall,
We must away, ere break of day
Far over the wood and mountain tall.

To Rivendell, where Elves yet dwell
In glades beneath the misty fell.
Through moor and waste we ride in haste,
And whither then we cannot tell.

With foes ahead, behind us dread,
Beneath the sky shall be our bed,
Until at last our toil be passed,
Our journey done, our errand sped.

We must away! We must away!
We ride before the break of day!

[Quiet Man Cometh]

I don't remember that song. It has been a while since I saw the movie though. I vaguely remember some singing going on when they first arrived at Bilbo's house. I remember more the ones from Return of the King, both the orc song and the bard's song in the beginning.

I'd like to know who the voice actors were in those movies. I thought the bard's voice was kinda wierd, interesting though, and I really liked the voice for the Eagle king in the Hobbit (Gwahier?).

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Oh, now you gave me something else to quote. Not technically literature, but close enough. :p

Where There's a Whip, There's a Way

Where there's a whip, there's a way.
Where there's a whip, there's a way.
We don't wanna go to war today,
But the lord of the lash says nay, nay, nay!
We're gonna march all day, all day, all day,
Cause where there's a whip, there's a way.

Where there's a whip, there's a way.
Where there's a whip, there's a way.
Where there's a whip, there's a way.
Left, right, left, right, left
Where there's a whip, there's a way.
Left, right

A crack on the back says we're gonna fight.
We're gonna march all day and night
And more, for we are the slaves of the Dark Lord's war.
Left, right, left, right, left,

Where there's a whip, there's a way.
Where there's a whip, there's a way.
We don't wanna go to war today,
But the lord of the lash says nay, nay, nay!
We're gonna march all day, all day, all day,
Cause where there's a whip, there's a way.
Left, right, left, right, left, right
Left, right, left, right, left, right
Left, right, left, right, left, right
Left, right, left, right, left, right
Left, right, left, right, left, right

Also, I wish there was some way they could have got the voice-actor for Gandalf in those cartoons to play Gandalf in Jackson's movies, or at least do his voice. It's probably biased from watching those so many times when I was young, but he'll always *be* Gandalf to me.

[Gallowsraven]

That's like me saying to everyone that the original Dumbledore from the first Harry Potter film/s is the only Dumbledore; he was just like i imagined the character to look and sound like. Damn shame the man died; awesome actor. Which reminds me, does anybody actually think of the HP books as literature???

And the Dwarves' Song was pretty. Long, but pretty. I liked it. The second one was funny.

To quote the Wife of Bath, character of our beloved Chaucer; "Benedicte!"

[Suzerain of Sheol]

I've never read Harry Potter (despite having been in the target age demographic when it was released) but I'd classify it as Children's Literature. The only mark against it I can think of off the top of my head is how long it is. "Literature" tends to favor concision, though being a fan of certain Big Fat Fantasy series, I tend to not agree.

And quote, an excerpt from Shelly's When the Lamp is Shattered.

When the lamp is shattered,
The light in the dust lies dead;
When the cloud is scattered,
The rainbow's glory is shed;
When the lute is broken,
Sweet tones are remembered not;
When the lips have spoken,
Loved accents are soon forgot.

[Gallowsraven]

Yeah, i thought so a little too. But i thought the last book was barely any story and almost all nonsense. Oh well.

This one is a Chaucer quote, and i'm fairly sure it's from the Wife of Bath's Prologue & Tale but i could be wrong, but i am definately correct about the author;

"Women desire six things: They want their husbands to be brave, wise, rich, generous, obedient to wife, and lively in bed."

Personally, rich isn't necessary though it could be nice, obedient . . . where's the fun in that? All the rest, yes please? :D

And another from the same man that relates to another male i know but who shall remain nameless (for the record he's not on here) "The guilty think all talk is of themselves."

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Oh, my, that last line reminds me of my sister.

And, "Jesus wept." The shortest verse in the Bible. :p

[Quiet Man Cometh]

That would be the orc song I was thinking of Sheol. :)

"I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said--"Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desart....Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings,
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away."

The other Shelley this time ;), Percy Byshe. I love the irony in this poem. I've always found that last passage amusing in that way.

[Gallowsraven]

Oh my gods! I know that poem! I read it in the Tripod Trilogy, it's in the first book because one of the characters is called by that name because he likes the character, or some such, it's a bit confusing and the story is set way into the future. I think.

"And the imperial votaress passed on,
In maiden meditation, fancy-free.
Yet marked I where the bolt of Cupid fell:
It fell upon a little western flower,
Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound,
And maidens call it Love-in-idleness."
~ Oberon to Puck in A Midsummer Night's Dream, explaining how the flower got its power.

[Suzerain of Sheol]

I've never read A Midsummer Night's Dream nor a great deal of Shakespeare in general. I'm the worst English major ever. :p

I'll get to it, someday. I daresay, if I wasn't so averse to reading off a computer screen, I'd be much better read in the classics.

And here, a poem by Plath I rather like,

The Dead

Revolving in oval loops of solar speed,
Couched in cauls of clay as in holy robes,
Dead men render love and war no heed,
Lulled in the ample womb of the full-tilt globe.

No spiritual Caesars are these dead;
They want no proud paternal kingdom come;
And when at last they blunder into bed
World-wrecked, they seek only oblivion.

Rolled round with goodly loam and cradled deep,
These bone shanks will not wake immaculate
To trumpet-toppling dawn of doomstruck day :
They loll forever in colossal sleep;
Nor can God's stern, shocked angels cry them up
From their fond, final, infamous decay.