Louise Blackwick Quotes

Her attention was now drawn upon a boy whose imagination had the potential to change the face of reality. Unfortunately for him, Aerinna liked reality the way it was: fluid, slippery and with a brick in it. The case was quickly resolved by giving the young boy an appetite for procrastination.

A day may come when all hope is lost; when the oceans run red with our blood, and our darkest hour is upon us - and when it comes, that red day of reckoning, we turn, my dears, not to our rulers-in-good-times, but to our leaders-in-bad-times.

So you put me through all this suffering just to taunt me?'

'Humans suffer because they take seriously that which we create for entertainment.'

'Oh really? Because let me tell you, I wasn't the least bit entertained!'

'That's because you were not being entertained, Mr Fantoccio, you were being enlightened,' stated the Mistress through a pair of foggy eyes. 'You want to know why painting never worked for you? Because painters are creators and you, Mr Fantoccio, are an overseer. You don't care about setting up the puppet show; you are merely interested in giving it a good ending. For you, Mr Fantoccio, creating the world was never enough; you aspire to run it. With every breath, you want to shape it. With every choice, you need to control it.

Vivian's first impression of Solidago was that she had travelled back in time, but not to a time where architecture had been invented. All houses were twisted out of shape, to say the least. Windows either too large to open or too small to make a difference peppered the city in places one would never dream of having one.

The walls were mostly cast in brickwork by the kind of stonemason whose day job was financial advising. Skewed walls with more bricks than mortar, knotted chimneys keeping the smoke inside and cupping rooftops whose main purpose was to gather rainwater – Solidago had it all and more.

As the oldest civilization of the cosmos, Alarians might have been excellent at healing, philosophizing and weaving into the fabric of reality, but they were very poor city builders.

At the Twilight of Gods bides the Weaver of Odds.

Beyond a thin veil of space stretched Existence, the frailest and most imbalanced reality of the cosmos. No one was really sure why it was imbalanced, but some believed it had something to do with the general alcohol consumption per capita.

As the Weaver, so is the Thread

Speaking of welding torches... there's one heading our way!'

The Nursebot was not wrong. Coming for them with the calculated patience of a Grim Reaper on rollerblades was the greatest wildfire the trio had ever seen. Burning in a mischievous cobalt-blue flame that straightforwardly spelled "chemical fire", the all-consuming flames had cornered them by the unopenable hatch, within an inch of their lives.

'We're all going to die!' wined 22-8, cradling his coppery head. 'We're done for!'

'I thought you social robots were built with problem-solving code,' said Floater, hovering as close to the ceiling as possible.

'Yes, well. My problem-solving code took too much space on the disk,' said 22-8 morosely.

Floater shook his head in disbelief. 'So you deleted it? To make room for what?'

22-8 lowered his head and whispered something that sounded very much like "dank memes" before falling silent.

Puppets and paintbrushes...
Mario was well on his thousandth decapitation when it occurred to him these simple objects were mere symbolic manifestations of his deep-seated phobias: fear of failure and fear of success. The first one had stopped him from following his dream; the second had stopped the dream from following him.
"To be simultaneously afraid of success and of failure is like going to bed scared and waking up terrified," he reflected. "Your mind's all wooden, your head's screwed on backwards and before you know it, you're a vermillion blotch on someone else's canvas and the entire world is pulling your strings.

Get this: how many Weavers does it take to screw in a light bulb?'

Kate folded her arms, her expression aloof. Acciper pensively scratched his beard, withholding his ignorance.

'One?' ventured Vivian.

Lucian's boyish face split into a grin. His body filled up with the imminent rumble of laughter.

'Two Weavers. One holds the light bulb and the other one spins reality around it.

Our dream of happiness is waiting for another universe to collide with our own, and change what we ourselves cannot.

The multiverse has selected its champions – had selected you – and yet under the blazing suns, here we stand: self-seeking and imperfect, lacking in wisdom, lacking in courage, afraid of death and of pain; afraid of our choices and the consequences they bring - '

' - and you ask yourselves: if only I could be that one person that makes it all better; that stops the degrading of worldly values. If only I could be that brave person that brings out the good in the bad.

Step, step, step, I fall and they lift me, slip-slop, slip-slop, through the watery mud. Each step is a heartbeat on my way to the grave, and the longest walk I will ever take. Plip, plip, I slip and they gather me. How strong are these savages, and how tight is their grip! Plip, plip, plip patters the rain, and I fall, and I call, and I stall for more time.

But my time has run out.