[ To attempt the same thing, again and once more and expect a different outcome, is madness. To do so, knowing the implications, and that you will have no result but might still persevere — is a pain of the heart, haunting.
He does not ask whether what gathers beneath his nails is mud or debris or the elixir of magical life, ground and churned. He breathes. Human need. Thirst. The starvation that makes wheat richer than gold.
Each day, Lan Wangji wakes to rice enough to fill his bowl, to cleansed waters for his bathing, to oils for his hair, the glistened filigree of a crown. In Sa-Hareth, men woke wedded to the cold, and in Taravast to deception, and in Ellethia to deathlessness.
And here, what do they have? Their remorse. Their guilt. Their — ]
no subject
[ To attempt the same thing, again and once more and expect a different outcome, is madness. To do so, knowing the implications, and that you will have no result but might still persevere — is a pain of the heart, haunting.
He does not ask whether what gathers beneath his nails is mud or debris or the elixir of magical life, ground and churned. He breathes. Human need. Thirst. The starvation that makes wheat richer than gold.
Each day, Lan Wangji wakes to rice enough to fill his bowl, to cleansed waters for his bathing, to oils for his hair, the glistened filigree of a crown. In Sa-Hareth, men woke wedded to the cold, and in Taravast to deception, and in Ellethia to deathlessness.
And here, what do they have? Their remorse. Their guilt. Their — ]
Perhaps magic feeds on this.