One of the great things about books is you can afford to do anything.
George R. R. MartinRead
They say night's beauties fade at dawn, and the children of wine are oft disowned in the morning light.
Interpretation
The beauty and joy of certain experiences can be fleeting and may not last into the next day.
This quote reflects the transient nature of pleasure and beauty, suggesting that moments of joy can be ephemeral like the enjoyment of wine that may lead to regret in the morning. It highlights how experiences that seem delightful and enchanting in the moment might not hold the same allure or positive outcome when the daylight reveals the truth of the situation.
In practice
In a discussion about fleeting moments of happiness, I might say, 'They say night's beauties fade at dawn.'
One of the great things about books is you can afford to do anything.
I hate outlines. I have a broad sense of where the story is going; I know the end, I know the end of the principal characters, and I know the major turning points and events from the books, the climaxes for each book, but I don't necessarily know each twist and turn along the way. That's something I discover in the course of writing and that's what makes writing enjoyable. I think if I outlined comprehensively and stuck to the outline the actual writing would be boring.
There is only one god and his name is Death. And there is only one thing we say to Death: βNot today.
I did not do it. Yet now I wish I had.β He turned to face the hall, that sea of pale faces. βI wish I had enough poison for you all. You make me sorry that I am not the monster you would have me be, yet there it is. I am innocent, but I will get no justice here.
But a voice inside her whispered, There are no heroes, and she remembered what Lord Petyr had said to her, here in this very hall. 'Life is not a song, sweetling,' he'd told her, 'You may learn that one day to your sorrow.' In life, the monsters win, she told herself.
I write from this tight third-person viewpoint, where each chapter is seen through the eyes of one individual character. When I'm writing that character, I become that character and identify with that character.
In the summer of 1988, my father took me up to look at the remains of our home, the dream house that he'd built. It was my first time since our family left four years earlier. Political and obscene graffiti covered the half-torn walls. There was no ceiling and surprisingly no floor: the parquet, the stone, the marble, all looted.
Few women, I fear, have had such reason as I have to think the long sad years of youth were worth living for the sake of middle age.
Let me live deep while I live; let me know the rich juices of red meat & stinging wine on my palate, the hot embrace of white arms, the mad exultation of battle when the blue blades flame crimson, and I am content"......Conan the Cimmerian.
Life is crazy and meaningful at once.
The bus roared on. I was going home in October. Everybody goes home in October.
Every life deserves a certain amount of dignity, no matter how poor or damaged the shell that carries it.
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