Legends Of The Fall Book Quotes

The books were legends and tales, stories from all over the Realm. These she had devoured voraciously – so voraciously, in fact, that she started to become fatigued by them. It was possible to have too much of a good thing, she reflected. “They’re all the same,” she complained to Fleet one night. “The soldier rescues the maiden and they fall in love. The fool outwits the wicked king. There are always three brothers or sisters, and it’s always the youngest who succeeds after the first two fail. Always be kind to beggars, for they always have a secret; never trust a unicorn. If you answer somebody’s riddle they always either kill themselves or have to do what you say. They’re all the same, and they’re all ridiculous! That isn’t what life is like!” Fleet had nodded sagely and puffed on his hookah. “Well, of course that’s not what life is like. Except the bit about unicorns – they’ll eat your guts as soon as look at you. those things in there” – he tapped the book she was carrying – “they’re simple stories. Real life is a story, too, only much more complicated. It’s still got a beginning, a middle, and an end. Everyone follows the same rules, you know. . . It’s just that there are more of them. Everyone has chapters and cliffhangers. Everyone has their journey to make. Some go far and wide and come back empty-handed; some don’t go anywhere and their journey makes them richest of all. Some tales have a moral and some don’t make any sense. Some will make you laugh, others make you cry. The world is a library, young Poison, and you’ll never get to read the same book twice.

Today that legend is inscribed on the stones that were used to build the walls of the school, and as the water falls out of the sky and over those stones, the words of the legend are carried down from the mountains and into the fields and gardens and orchards of Afghanistan. And as the water and the words rush past, who can fail to turn to his neighbor and whisper, with humility and awe-if this is what the weakest, the least valued, the most neglected among us are capable of achieving, truly is there anything we cannot do?

Books for Banned Love Sea of Poppies, by Amitav Ghosh The English Patient, by Michael Ondaatje Euphoria, by Lily King The Red and the Black, by Stendahl Luster, by Raven Leilani Asymmetry, by Lisa Halliday All the Pretty Horses, by Cormac McCarthy Middlesex, by Jeffrey Eugenides The Vixen, by Francine Prose Legends of the Fall, by Jim Harrison The Winter Soldier, by Daniel Mason

The Rise And Fall Of Humanity...depends on how we treat each other. It must be either kindness & love or hatred & despair. The roads are laid out in front of us. The decisions are entirely ours to make!

Sparks come from the very source of light and are made of the purest brightness—so say the oldest legends. When a human Being is to be born, a spark begins to fall. First it flies through the darkness of outer space, then through galaxies, and finally, before it falls here, to Earth, the poor thing bumps into the orbits of planets. Each of them contaminates the spark with some Properties, while it darkens and fades. First Pluto draws the frame for this cosmic experiment and reveals its basic principles—life is a fleeting incident, followed by death, which will one day let the spark escape from the trap; there’s no other way out. Life is like an extremely demanding testing ground. From now on everything you do will count, every thought and every deed, but not for you to be punished or rewarded afterward, but because it is they that build your world. This is how the machine works. As it continues to fall, the spark crosses Neptune’s belt and is lost in its foggy vapors. As consolation Neptune gives it all sorts of illusions, a sleepy memory of its exodus, dreams about flying, fantasy, narcotics and books. Uranus equips it with the capacity for rebellion; from now on that will be proof of the memory of where the spark is from. As the spark passes the rings of Saturn, it becomes clear that waiting for it at the bottom is a prison. A labor camp, a hospital, rules and forms, a sickly body, fatal illness, the death of a loved one. But Jupiter gives it consolation, dignity and optimism, a splendid gift: things-will-work-out. Mars adds strength and aggression, which are sure to be of use. As it flies past the Sun, it is blinded, and all that it has left of its former, far-reaching consciousness is a small, stunted Self, separated from the rest, and so it will remain. I imagine it like this: a small torso, a crippled being with its wings torn off, a Fly tormented by cruel children; who knows how it will survive in the Gloom. Praise the Goddesses, now Venus stands in the way of its Fall. From her the spark gains the gift of love, the purest sympathy, the only thing that can save it and other sparks; thanks to the gifts of Venus they will be able to unite and support each other. Just before the Fall it catches on a small, strange planet that resembles a hypnotized Rabbit, and doesn’t turn on its own axis, but moves rapidly, staring at the Sun. This is Mercury, who gives it language, the capacity to communicate. As it passes the Moon, it gains something as intangible as the soul. Only then does it fall to Earth, and is immediately clothed in a body. Human, animal or vegetable. That’s the way it is. —

Qui-Gon’s eyes flicked to Obi-Wan’s. “Ah, yes,” he said. Returning his gaze to the hovering lightsaber, he recited, “The crystal is the heart of the blade. The heart is the crystal of the Jedi. The Jedi is the crystal of the Force. The Force is the blade of the heart. All are intertwined: the crystal, the blade, the Jedi. You…are one.

May we always remember that our great nation has not survived over 200 years by itself but by it's people working together in unity for the good of our country. Possibly having diversity in many aspects of our lives except in one...our spirits. For the ancient wise saying still stands true today...United We Stand, Divided We Shall Fall!

Vader was not a victim of unfortunate circumstances. Yes, he had his struggles and his shortcomings, but he was not a weak being who feared abandonment. He was a powerful man who had been given opportunities to better himself, yet he only craved more power, and chose his own path to betray the Jedi and become a Sith. He was my greatest failure.

So, The Knight of the Rose?  It’s about a girl named Miranda who becomes a knight, who has a bunch of really wonderful adventures…who falls in love with a princess, and marries her at the end of the book.  A girl knight.  Marries a princess.  And is the heroine of the book. Everyone does need a heroine like them.  I’d never realized how much, until I read that story.  And it saved my life.  It changed me, in a way that only books can.  It gave me a sense of strength, of place in the world, because I was no longer “Holly the homo” (as charmingly unoriginal as it was), what they chanted at me in the hallways of my stupid little school.  I was just me.  Just Holly.  And I could do or be anything, because there was a story about someone like me.  And hey, the heroine of that story had done pretty all right for herself.  So maybe I could, too. I

Jill had, as you might say, quite fall in love with the Unicorn. She thought- and she wasn't far wrong- that he was the shiningest, delicatest, most graceful animal she had ever met; and he was so gentle and soft of speech that, if you hadn't known, you would hardly have believed how fierce and terrible he could be in battle. "Oh, this is nice!" said Jill. "Just walking along like this. I wish there could be more of this sort of adventure. It's a pity there's always so much happening in Narnia." But the Unicorn explained to her that she was quite mistaken. He said that the Sons and Daughters of Adam and Eve were brought out of their own strange world into Narnia only at times when Narnia was stirred and upset, but she mustn't think it was always like that. In between their visits there were hundreds and thousands of years when peaceful King followed peaceful King till you could hardly remember their names or count their numbers, and there was really hardly anything to put into the History Books. And he went on to talk of old Queens and heroes whom she had never heard of. He spoke of Swanwhite the Queen who had lived before the days of the White Witch and the Great Winter, who was so beautiful that when she looked into any forest pool the reflection of her face shone out of the water like a star by night for a year and a day afterwards. He spoke of Moonwood the Hare who had such ears that he could sit by Caldron Pool under the thunder of the great waterfall and hear what men spoke in whispers at Cair Paravel. He told how King Gale, who was ninth in descent from Frank the first of all Kings, had sailed far away into the Eastern seas and delivered the Lone Islanders from a dragon and how, in return, they had given him the Lone Islands to be part of the royal lands of Narnia for ever. He talked of whole centuries in which all Narnia was so happy that notable dances and feasts, or at most tournaments, were the only things that could be remembered, and every day and week had been better than the last. And as he went on, the picture of all those happy years, all the thousands of them, piled up in Jill's mind till it was rather like looking down from a high hill on to a rich, lovely plain full of woods and waters and cornfields, which spread away and away till it got thin and misty from distance.

Green Arrow is the embodiment of what one person can do. It’s a theme that comes up repeatedly in this book, one that explains why this powerless archer with a chip on his shoulder appeals to so many people. He wasn’t born of the heartbreaking tragedy of a Batman, he didn’t fall from the stars to deliver humanity from evil, nor is his origin wrapped in the fabric of Greek myths and legends. He is a human character that struggles with work, love, loss, darkness, death, and the weight of his own sins. Like the rest of us humans, Green Arrow is flawed, and a perpetually moving target.

THE SPANISH JEW'S TALE. THE LEGEND OF RABBI BEN LEVI. Rabbi Ben Levi, on the Sabbath, read A volume of the Law, in which it said, "No man shall look upon my face and live." And as he read, he prayed that God would give His faithful servant grace with mortal eye To look upon His face and yet not die. Then fell a sudden shadow on the page And, lifting up his eyes, grown dim with age, He saw the Angel of Death before him stand, Holding a naked sword in his right hand. Rabbi Ben Levi was a righteous man, Yet through his veins a chill of terror ran. With trembling voice he said, "What wilt thou here?" The angel answered, "Lo! the time draws near When thou must die; yet first, by God's decree, Whate'er thou askest shall be granted thee." Replied the Rabbi, "Let these living eyes First look upon my place in Paradise." Then said the Angel, "Come with me and look." Rabbi Ben Levi closed the sacred book, And rising, and uplifting his gray head, "Give me thy sword," he to the Angel said, "Lest thou shouldst fall upon me by the way." The Angel smiled and hastened to obey, Then led him forth to the Celestial Town, And set him on the wall, whence, gazing down, Rabbi Ben Levi, with his living eyes, Might look upon his place in Paradise. Then straight into the city of the Lord The Rabbi leaped with the Death-Angel's sword, And through the streets there swept a sudden breath Of something there unknown, which men call death. Meanwhile the Angel stayed without, and cried, "Come back!" To which the Rabbi's voice replied, "No! in the name of God, whom I adore, I swear that hence I will depart no more!" Then all the Angels cried, "O Holy One, See what the son of Levi here has done! The kingdom of Heaven he takes by violence, And in Thy name refuses to go hence!" The Lord replied, "My Angels, be not wroth; Did e'er the son of Levi break his oath? Let him remain; for he with mortal eye Shall look upon my face and yet not die." Beyond the outer wall the Angel of Death Heard the great voice, and said, with panting breath, "Give back the sword, and let me go my way." Whereat the Rabbi paused, and answered, "Nay! Anguish enough already has it caused Among the sons of men." And while he paused He heard the awful mandate of the Lord Resounding through the air, "Give back the sword!" The Rabbi bowed his head in silent prayer; Then said he to the dreadful Angel, "Swear, No human eye shall look on it again; But when thou takest away the souls of men, Thyself unseen, and with an unseen sword, Thou wilt perform the bidding of the Lord." The Angel took the sword again, and swore, And walks on earth unseen forevermore.

Sailboat Table (table by Quint Hankle) The Voyage of the Narwhal, by Andrea Barrett Complete Stories, by Clarice Lispector Boy Kings of Texas, by Domingo Martinez The Marrow Thieves, by Cherie Dimaline A Brief History of Seven Killings, by Marlon James There There, by Tommy Orange Citizen: An American Lyric, by Claudia Rankine Underland, by Robert Macfarlane The Undocumented Americans, by Karla Cornejo Villavicencio Deacon King Kong, by James McBride The Dutch House, by Ann Patchett Will and Testament, by Vigdis Hjorth Every Man Dies Alone, by Hans Fallada The Door, by Magda Svabo The Plot Against America, by Philip Roth Fates and Furies, by Lauren Groff The Overstory, by Richard Power Night Train, by Lise Erdrich Her Body and Other Parties, by Carmen Maria Machado The Penguin Book of the Modern American Short Story, edited by John Freeman Between the World and Me, by Ta-Nehisi Coates Birds of America, by Lorrie Moore Mongrels, by Stephen Graham Jones The Office of Historical Corrections, by Danielle Evans Tenth of December, by George Saunders Murder on the Red River, by Marcie R. Rendon Leave the World Behind, by Rumaan Alam Ceremony, by Leslie Marmon Silko On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, by Ocean Vuong The Unwomanly Face of War, by Svetlana Alexievich Standard Deviation, by Katherine Heiny All My Puny Sorrows, by Miriam Toews The Death of the Heart, by Elizabeth Bowen Mean Spirit, by Linda Hogan NW, by Zadie Smith Being Mortal, by Atul Gawande Americanah, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie Firekeeper’s Daughter, by Angeline Boulley Erasure, by Percival Everett Sharks in the Time of Saviors, by Kawai Strong Washburn Heaven, by Mieko Kawakami Books for Banned Love Sea of Poppies, by Amitav Ghosh The English Patient, by Michael Ondaatje Euphoria, by Lily King The Red and the Black, by Stendahl Luster, by Raven Leilani Asymmetry, by Lisa Halliday All the Pretty Horses, by Cormac McCarthy Middlesex, by Jeffrey Eugenides The Vixen, by Francine Prose Legends of the Fall, by Jim Harrison The Winter Soldier, by Daniel Mason

From Walt: The Grapes of Wrath, Les Misérables, To Kill a Mockingbird, Moby-Dick, The Ox-Bow Incident, A Tale of Two Cities, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, The Three Musketeers, Don Quixote (where your nickname came from), The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, and anything by Anton Chekhov. From Henry: Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee, Cheyenne Autumn, War and Peace, The Things They Carried, Catch-22, The Sun Also Rises, The Blessing Way, Beyond Good and Evil, The Teachings of Don Juan, Heart of Darkness, The Human Comedy, The Art of War. From Vic: Justine, Concrete Charlie: The Story of Philadelphia Football Legend Chuck Bednarik, Medea (you’ll love it; it’s got a great ending), The Kama Sutra, Henry and June, The Onion Field, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Zorba the Greek, Madame Bovary, Richie Ashburn’s Phillies Trivia (fuck you, it’s a great book). From Ruby: The Holy Bible (New Testament), The Pilgrim’s Progress, Inferno, Paradise Lost, My Ántonia, The Scarlet Letter, Walden, Poems of Emily Dickinson, My Friend Flicka, Our Town. From Dorothy: The Gastronomical Me, The French Chef Cookbook (you don’t eat, you don’t read), Last Suppers: Famous Final Meals From Death Row, The Bonfire of the Vanities, The Scarlet Pimpernel, Something Fresh, The Sound and the Fury, The Maltese Falcon, Pride and Prejudice, Brides-head Revisited. From Lucian: Thirty Seconds over Tokyo, Band of Brothers, All Quiet on the Western Front, The Virginian, The Basque History of the World (so you can learn about your heritage you illiterate bastard), Hondo, Sackett, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, Bobby Fischer: My 60 Memorable Games, The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, Quartered Safe Out Here. From Ferg: Riders of the Purple Sage, Kiss Me Deadly, Lonesome Dove, White Fang, A River Runs Through It (I saw the movie, but I heard the book was good, too), Kip Carey’s Official Wyoming Fishing Guide (sorry, kid, I couldn’t come up with ten but this ought to do).

Books for Banned Love Sea of Poppies, by Amitav Ghosh The English Patient, by Michael Ondaatje Euphoria, by Lily King The Red and the Black, by Stendhal Luster, by Raven Leilani Asymmetry, by Lisa Halliday All the Pretty Horses, by Cormac McCarthy Middlesex, by Jeffrey Eugenides The Vixen, by Francine Prose Legends of the Fall, by Jim Harrison The Winter Soldier, by Daniel Mason

apprentice, but to Obi-Wan, it was confirmation that he would become a Jedi Knight. And if anyone appreciated the opportunity to become a Jedi, it was Obi-Wan. Less than a year earlier, when he was still just a few weeks shy of his thirteenth birthday, he was nearly convinced that no Jedi Knight or Master would ever choose him as an apprentice. But those days were behind him now. The Jedi Knight Qui-Gon Jinn, with some encouragement from Master Yoda, had taken Obi-Wan as his Padawan. Granted, they had gotten off to a rough start, and it only became rougher when Obi-Wan temporarily renounced the Jedi Order to join the revolution on the planet Melida/

What if I can't do this? What if I fail? What if the hope I keep giving to everyone around me turns out to be another twist in the nightmare?" I cried, tears falling on the small dragon trying to comfort me. "What if my fine words are just that: words?

You’ve probably heard the stories about lottery winners losing it all. They’re not urban legends; they really happen. The depths people fall to after big lottery winnings are heartbreaking and mindboggling. And it isn’t only lottery winners. You’ve also heard the stories about famous movie stars, recording stars, or star athletes who make incredible fortunes, literally hundreds of millions of dollars, and somehow manage to wind up broke and in debt. And when you heard those stories, you probably thought the same thing I did: “Man, I don’t know how they pulled that off, but if I made that kind of money I sure wouldn’t squander it all like that!” But let me ask you a tough question: are you sure about that? Speaking as one who’s made it to the top and then seen it all evaporate, all I can say is, you might be surprised. There’s a reason those lottery winners lose it all again, a reason those shining stars plummet to those dark places: they may have had the big breaks, but they didn’t grasp the slight edge. Their winnings changed their bank account balance—but it didn’t change their philosophy. The purpose of this book is to show you the slight edge philosophy, show you how it works, give you plenty of examples, and show you exactly how to make it a core part of how you see the world and how you live your life every day. Throughout this book, if you look carefully you’ll find dozens of statements that embody this philosophy, statements like “Do the thing, and you shall have the power.” Here are a few more examples that you’ll come across in the following pages: Success is the progressive realization of a worthy ideal. Successful people do what unsuccessful people are not willing to do.

During the writing of this book, I found myself questioning why the sixteenth-century history of the Irish-English conflict—“the Mother of All the Irish Rebellions”—has been utterly ignored or forgotten. This episode was by far the largest of Elizabeth’s wars and the last significant effort of her reign. It was also the most costly in English lives lost, both common and noble. By some estimates, the rebellion resulted in half the population of Ireland dying through battle, famine, and disease, and the countryside—through the burning of forestland—was changed forever. Yet almost no one studies it, writes of it, or discusses it, even as the impact of that revolt continues to make headlines across the world more than four hundred years later. Likewise, few people outside Ireland have ever heard of Grace O’Malley, surely one of the most outrageous and extraordinary personalities of her century—at least as fascinating a character as her contemporary and sparring partner Elizabeth I. Of course history is written by the victors, and England was, by all accounts, the winner of the Irish Rebellion of the sixteenth century. But the mystery only deepens when we learn that the only contemporary knowledge we have of Grace’s exploits—other than through Irish tradition and legend—is recorded not in Ireland’s histories, but by numerous references and documentation in England’s Calendar of State Papers, as well as numerous official dispatches sent by English captains and governors such as Lords Sidney, Maltby, and Bingham. As hard as it is to believe, Grace O’Malley’s name never once appears in the most important Irish history of the day, The Annals of the Four Masters. Even in the two best modern books on the Irish Rebellion—Cyril Fall’s Elizabeth’s Irish Wars and Richard Berleth’s The Twilight Lords—there is virtually no mention made of her. Tibbot Burke receives only slightly better treatment. Why is this? Anne Chambers, author of my two “bibles” on the lives of Grace O’Malley (Granuaile: The Life and Times of Grace O’Malley) and Tibbot Burke (Chieftain to Knight)—the only existing biographies of mother and son—suggests that as for the early historians, they might have had so little regard for women in general that Grace’s exclusion would be expected. As for the modern historians, it is troubling that in their otherwise highly detailed books, the authors should ignore such a major player in the history of the period. It

Anakin had always resented the fact that Watto refused to free his mother. Watto isn’t entirely to blame, Anakin mused, wondering just how hard Qui-Gon had tried to liberate Shmi.

Although Palpatine had always presented himself as a cautious, unassuming politician, he made it known to all that he would do whatever was necessary to preserve the Republic. Despite his modest protests, the Senate demanded that he stay in office long after his term had expired. But as the Clone Wars escalated, even his most trusted advisors were surprised by his many amendments to the Republic Constitution, which extended his own political powers while limiting the freedom of others.

Hoping to stay on the right path this time, Anakin said, “What must I do, Master Yoda?” “Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose.” I might be able to let go of being a Jedi, Anakin thought, but I can’t let go of Padmé. I just can’t. I love her too much. I won’t let her die. I won’t.

C-3PO. The last time Vader had seen the golden droid was on Mustafar. I saw you through the window of Padmé’s ship as it landed, Vader recalled. Holding this relic of his former life, Vader felt waves of anger and loss sweep over his dark soul. His memory flashed to the day that Anakin had found the droid’s skeleton in Watto’s junkyard, and Anakin had wondered if the repaired droid might help him and his mother leave Tatooine.

But Anakin was also bitter that he had not been chosen by Obi-Wan, who had only accepted him as an apprentice out of obligation to Qui-Gon.

As days turned into weeks and months became years, Anakin made the best of his time, learning all that he could about technology and interstellar travel. He studied the aliens who passed through Mos Espa and got to know the local merchants on a first-name basis. While sitting in junked starship cockpits, he learned to recognize the controls for thrusters, stabilizers, and repulsors. From watching other mechanics and pit droids, he became proficient at repairing Podracers at Watto’s shop.

The droids were working fast to maintain the precious midi-chlorians that existed in Anakin’s blood and tissue. To prevent the midi-chlorians from becoming thinned by intrusive chemicals, the droids were working without anesthetics. Anakin felt everything.

It was determined that the freighter had traveled to Yavin 4, the same moon where Anakin Skywalker had dueled Asajj Ventress during the Clone Wars. First Tatooine, now Yavin 4, Vader thought. Despite his devotion to the power of the dark side of the Force, he had the nagging sense that his past was coming back to haunt him.

He had not forgotten how Anakin Skywalker had obeyed Palpatine’s command to kill Count Dooku, and had no reason to doubt that the Emperor had already planned a test for Luke to determine whether Vader would remain his apprentice.

Although some Jedi wondered just how much Palpatine was trying to end the war, Anakin had come to consider the Republic’s leader among his most trusted friends.

With an imperceptible gesture, he reset the viewscreen to display the starfield that lay directly before the Executor’s bow. As he gazed at the distant stars on the screen, a deeply buried memory pushed its way into his consciousness. It was the memory of a wish, a wish to visit every star in the galaxy. But that wish, and the dreams that went with it, had belonged to someone else, a child who lived a long time ago and was no more. Those were the dreams of a boy named Anakin Skywalker.

Night had fallen by the time Luke placed Anakin Skywalker’s armor-clad body atop a pile of gathered wood. As he ignited the pyre, Luke said, “I burn his armor and with it the name of Darth Vader. May the name of Anakin Skywalker be a light that guides the Jedi for generations to come.

When Luke reached for his lightsaber and ignited its blue blade, Vader noted that it was indeed the same weapon Obi-Wan had appropriated from Anakin Skywalker on Mustafar. But it wasn’t time to share this information with Luke. Not yet.

Few people were aware of what had become of Anakin Skywalker, but it was not long before nearly everyone in the Galactic Empire had heard some rumor or stray fact about Palpatine’s new servant.

Eventually, Anakin realized that Obi-Wan was the one Jedi who refused to give up on him. He came to regard Obi-Wan as the father figure he never had, although Qui-Gon Jinn had certainly come close in that area. In time, Anakin and Obi-Wan learned to trust each other and became close friends. As

And yet he also knew something else, something far worse than that he’d allowed himself to give way to his anger. Killing the Tuskens had given him satisfaction.

Anakin felt his throat become painfully dry. No matter how often his mother reminded him that there were less fortunate beings in the galaxy, there was no denying the fact that they were both slaves, the property of Gardulla the Hutt. Tatooine, thought Anakin. Welcome to Tatooine.

Palpatine suspects the Council is up to something, and the Council wants me to spy on Palpatine! Who should I trust? Anakin tried talking with Padmé, but when she expressed her concern that democracy no longer existed in the Republic, he accused her of sounding like a Separatist. Is she turning against me too?!

Now, so many years later, Vader reflected on all the Jedi he killed that day. Remembering the stunned expressions of Mace Windu as he fell from Palpatine’s office window and the screams of the Jedi younglings and their teachers, he felt no remorse. Just as he believed he had done his best to be a dutiful Jedi, he believed his actions as Palpatine’s apprentice were even more righteous.

He felt each cold metal blade that sliced into his hideously scarred flesh to allow more tools to probe and stabilize his damaged internal organs. He squirmed as shattered bones were replaced by plastoid, and cringed as lasers grafted the new limbs into place. At some point, he overheard a surgical droid explaining to Palpatine that he would require a special helmet and backpack to cycle air in and out of his damaged lungs. Despite this damage, throughout the entire procedure, he never stopped screaming.

But for all of Anakin’s confidence in his powers, all his accomplishments and victories, and all the lessons learned in the decade that followed the Battle of Naboo, nothing prepared him, at age twenty, for his reunion with Padmé Amidala.

At some point, while listening to spacers talk of faraway worlds, he became aware of the Jedi Knights, the powerful peacekeepers of the Galactic Republic, who used lightsabers: a handheld weapon that emitted a lethal, truncated laser beam. Despite his limited knowledge of the Jedi, he sometimes had dreams of becoming one.

by the end of the day, nothing had really changed. Tatooine was still a harsh, lawless world, and Anakin was still a slave. The following day, however, something remarkable happened. That was the day a Naboo starship landed on Tatooine, and Anakin’s life was forever changed.

Despite all the terrible, unspeakable things he’d done in his life, he knew he could not stand by and allow the Emperor to kill Luke. And in that moment of awareness, he was Darth Vader no more. He was Anakin Skywalker.

He would not mourn for the lives he had taken. But for the loss of his former self, the boy who had dreamed of becoming a Jedi, he was unable to hold back the tears that streamed down his cheeks.

Vader stepped to a viewport and gazed down at the sand planet. It looked just as barren as he remembered it. To think that I lived there once…that it was my home before the Jedi came and took me away. My mother breathed her last on this world, and for years I felt such…agonizing loss. Now I feel nothing. This world means as much to me as a speck of dust, and all its inhabitants might as well be dust too.

Vader’s blade was crossed with his opponent’s when Obi-Wan threw a glance into the hangar. Vader kept his eyes riveted on the Jedi. You won’t get away from me this time! Unexpectedly, Obi-Wan raised his lightsaber before him and closed his eyes. His expression was serene. Vader could hardly believe it. He’s surrendering! Without mercy, Vader swung hard with his lightsaber, slicing through Obi-Wan’s form.

When Anakin realized that even the newly appointed Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, the former Senator of Naboo, was aware of his role in destroying the droid control ship, he thought he’d gone as far as a slave from Tatooine ever could. But his adventures were only beginning.

Darth Vader never pondered what might have happened if Qui-Gon Jinn had not discovered young Anakin Skywalker, or if Anakin had not won that crucial Podrace. Nor did he wonder whether Anakin’s life might have taken a different path if Qui-Gon—instead of Obi-Wan Kenobi—had survived the duel with the Sith Lord Darth Maul on Naboo. On Tatooine, Qui-Gon had asserted that nothing happened by accident, and although there were many things that Vader would have disagreed upon with Qui-Gon, he would have agreed with this, because Vader believed in destiny.

He looks so old, Vader thought, but knew better than to assume that the white-bearded Obi-Wan had weakened with age. As Vader moved slowly toward the hooded interloper, Obi-Wan activated his own blue-bladed lightsaber.

Vader had used that time to think about the droids that Princess Leia had sent to Tatooine, and the freighter that had transported Obi-Wan Kenobi to the Death Star. Vader had wondered, How long was Obi-Wan on Tatooine. And why?

Goodness, Ben thought. It looks just like R2-D2. He smiled at the droid and said, “Hello there!” Waggling his fingers in a beckoning gesture, he encouraged, “Come here, my little friend. Don’t be afraid.

Ben’s smile melted away. He kept his eyes on Luke and tried to remain calm, but the boy’s words had practically stunned him. Catching his breath, Ben eased himself back to rest against a boulder. “Obi-Wan Kenobi…” he said. “Obi-Wan?” His gaze drifted to the ground. “Now that’s a name I’ve not heard in a long time…a long time.

The boy’s as good at fixing things as his father was, Ben thought. Just then, R2-D2 beeped with what sounded like approval at Luke’s technical skills, and Ben thought, If you have any memory of Anakin, you’re probably thinking the same thing.

Mos Eisley spaceport,” Ben said. “You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.” Glancing at Luke, he added, “We must be cautious.

He proceeded through the corridor, but with less caution. For now he knew he was destined to encounter Vader, and that it would be their final reunion.

Obi-Wan realized there was only one way Luke, Leia, and the others would escape the battle station alive. He smiled as he looked away from Luke, then closed his eyes and raised his lightsaber up before him. Darth Vader did not hesitate to strike.

I wasn’t ready to forgive Anakin. And he won’t be entirely free unless I do.

But Obi-Wan knew in his heart that those were not the only reasons. He added, “Because I was wrong about you. And because I am your friend.” Anakin answered quietly, “Thank you, Master.

Luke was about to grab Windy and haul him out of the cave when he heard a man clearing his throat. Both boys turned their heads fast to see a hooded figure standing outside the cave. He was wearing a dark brown robe and holding a staff that was topped by a slender glowrod. The figure pulled back his hood to reveal the weathered face of a white-haired, bearded man. “I’m Ben Kenobi,” the man said. “We don’t have much time if I’m going to get you boys home.

Luke hadn’t noticed just how still the air was until a strangely cold breeze flowed over and past them, and he nearly jumped when he saw movement in the ruins. The breeze had blown a pair of leather strips that dangled from one of the arched ribs. Luke didn’t wonder what the leather strips might have been used for. It didn’t take much imagination to guess that the Tuskens had once used them to string someone up. Luke felt his blood run cold, and an overwhelming sense of dread engulfed him. He tried to tear his gaze from the leather strips, and felt suddenly queasy when he realized he could not, as if he were compelled to keep staring at them.

And then his gaze landed on the area of the unmarked graves that included his grandmother’s final resting place. He thought of the broken skeletons he’d seen at the abandoned Tusken camp. He suddenly found himself wondering which graveyard was more miserable. The one where the butchered remains of the dead had been left exposed for all to see? Or the one where the buried were already all but forgotten? Luke couldn’t decide. Both were terribly unfortunate fates.

As Luke recalled the encounter with Vader on Cloud City, he didn’t feel angry about his father’s actions. Darth Vader had been the Emperor’s servant, and the dark side had consumed nearly every trace of goodness in him. But in the end, on the second Death Star, at the Battle of Endor, the goodness that remained in Luke’s father won out over the dark side. Anakin Skywalker destroyed the Sith, and he died a Jedi.

More than once, Luke had heard his uncle say, “If the heat doesn’t kill you on Tatooine, everything else will.

Watching Biggs walk away, Luke wondered if it might indeed be the last time he’d ever see his friend. He also wondered if he really ever would make it off Tatooine.

Over the course of just several fateful days, Luke had gained new allies and a sense of purpose. He had been transformed from a Tatooine farmboy into an enemy of the Empire and a hero of the Rebellion. But as he thought of Ben, Owen, Beru, and Biggs, he lowered his head sadly. He still had a hard time believing they were gone.

Yeah, well, I don’t see any resemblance.” Wald shook his head sadly and said, “It was awful, how Shmi died.” Luke didn’t want to ask, but he had to know. “How?” “Sand People abducted her from the Lars farm,” Wald said. “Took her off into the desert and killed her.” The Rodian’s words jolted Luke. He could only imagine where Shmi’s death might have occurred, but he suddenly recalled the remote, abandoned Tusken Raider camp that he and Biggs had discovered in the Jundland Wastes years earlier. His legs felt weak. He placed one hand on top of R2-D2’s domed head to steady himself.

Spidroth “Are you sure we should be placing down torches?” Porkins whispered as Alex stuck a torch to the wall. “It’s not the light we need to worry about,” Alex whispered back. “Wardens are blind. We have to keep as quiet as possible, so we need torches, so we don’t trip or fall or anything like that.” Spidroth had heard similar things about wardens. From the stories she’d read, they sensed their prey through vibrations, as they had no eyes. The three of them were making their way through a narrow cave, trying to find their way back up. Spidroth suggested that they could dig upwards, but Alex said that would be a bad

There once was a girl of the Moth Folk, dark-winged, strong, and fearless. Her eyes were like the starlit sky; her footfall soft as shadow. And although she was lovely, love had no place in her heart, for hers was the tribe of the Moth King, who had waged a war on love, for ever and ever. But love, like all forbidden things, was fascinating to her. Every night of the clear full moon, she would go to the Moonlight Market and watch the traders sell their wares: printed books of every kind; pomegranates of the south; wines from the islands; gems from the north; flowers that bloomed only once in their lives. But she only had eyes for the sellers of charms and glamours. Here, there were spells for a broken heart, or to spin dead leaves into gold, or to rekindle a memory, or to summon the western wind. Most of all, there were love spells: tiny bottles of colored glass with stoppers worked in silver filled with potions made from the heart of a rose, or the tail fin of a mermaid. Here were glamours to melt a lover's heart: candles of every color; tokens of remembrance; silk-bound books of poetry. But among all the love-knots and bonbons and pressed flowers and handkerchiefs, the Moth girl never truly saw the nature of her enemy, for it seemed to her that Love was weak, and simpering, and faithless. She told herself she was too strong to fall for its blandishments. Until one day, at the Market, she saw a boy with a glamorie-glass in his hand, standing by a display of books, and stories, and legends, and memories.

To this day, Luke wondered if Ben ever had any idea that he wouldn’t be leaving the Death Star on the Millennium Falcon.

Shortly after they had arrived within the battle station’s hangar, while still hiding within the Falcon’s smuggling compartment, Ben had sensed a most particular presence. Darth Vader. Ben knew that if he had sensed Vader, it was most likely that the Dark Lord had sensed him, too.

After Vader delivered Luke to the Emperor’s throne room on the Death Star, and the black-cloaked Emperor orchestrated a lightsaber duel to test father against son, Obi-Wan became even more resolved that Luke had been unprepared for the confrontation. He’s afraid of what will happen to Leia if he fails to defeat Vader, Obi-Wan thought. He must kill Vader.

Obi-Wan knew that Vader would never help, and he felt almost overwhelmed by a sense of dread. Luke would soon be dead, and Vader would remain the Emperor’s puppet. In fact, Obi-Wan was so convinced of Vader’s nature that he was stunned by what happened next. Vader grabbed the Emperor and lifted him off his feet. The deadly blue lightning fell away from Luke and arced back from the Emperor’s fingertips and crashed down upon the Sith Lords. Vader carried the Emperor across the throne room and hurled him down into the elevator shaft. A moment later, the Emperor exploded in a great release of dark energy.

Had Obi-Wan’s spirit not witnessed Vader’s action, he never would have believed it. Vader, the same monster that Obi-Wan had left to die on Mustafar, had sacrificed himself to save his son. And suddenly Obi-Wan realized where he had failed. For unlike Luke, Obi-Wan had not only believed that Anakin was completely consumed by the dark side, but had actually refused to believe that any goodness could have remained within Vader. And by refusing to allow that possibility, Obi-Wan had condemned not only his former friend but his own capacity for hope.

As he felt himself begin to slip away from Luke’s dream, he said, “And now, farewell. I loved you as a son, and as a student, and as a friend. Until we meet again, may the Force be with you.

With a historian’s eye, Archibald Gracie attempted to separate truth from fantasy as he listened to the survivors’ stories, a potential book beginning to form in his mind. Second Officer Lightoller and Third Officer Pitman regularly stopped by the small cabin Gracie shared with Hugh Woolner to discuss various aspects of the disaster. All agreed that the explosions heard during the sinking could not have been the ship’s boilers blowing up. From the discovery of the severed wreck in 1985 we now know that the “explosions” were actually the sound of the ship being wrenched apart. But Gracie and Lightoller firmly believed that the ship had sunk intact—a view that would become the prevailing opinion for the next seventy-three years. Gracie thought that Norris Williams and Jack Thayer, “the two young men cited as authority … of the break-in-two theory,” had confused the falling funnel for the ship breaking apart. But both Williams and Thayer knew exactly what they had seen, as did some other eyewitnesses. On the Carpathia, Jack Thayer described the stages of the ship’s sinking and breaking apart to Lewis Skidmore, a Brooklyn art teacher, who drew sketches that were later featured in many newspapers. The inaccuracies in Skidmore’s drawings, however, only bolstered the belief that the ship had, in fact, sunk intact. And what of the most famous Titanic legend of all—that the band played “Nearer My God to Thee” as the ship neared its end? It’s often claimed that this was a myth that took hold among survivors on the Carpathia and captivated the public in the aftermath of the disaster. None of the musicians survived to confirm or deny the story, but Harold Bride noted that the last tune he heard being played as he left the wireless cabin was “Autumn.” For a time this was believed to be a hymn tune by that name, but Walter Lord proposed in The Night Lives On that Bride must have been referring to “Songe d’Automne,” a popular waltz by Archibald Joyce that is listed in White Star music booklets of the period. Historian George Behe, however, has carefully studied the survivor accounts regarding the music that was heard during the sinking and has found credible evidence that “Nearer My God to Thee” and perhaps other hymns were played toward the end. Behe also recounts that the orchestra’s leader, Wallace Hartley, was once asked by a friend what he would do if he ever found himself on a sinking ship. Hartley replied, “I don’t think I could do better than play ‘O God, Our Help in Ages Past’ or ‘Nearer My God to Thee.’ ” The legendary hymn may not have been the very last tune played on the Titanic but it seems possible that it was heard on the sloping deck that night.

The book felt suddenly heavy in his hands. He set it down carefully upon the workbench and, by the light of his glowrod, he began turning the pages. Every page was filled with handwritten text, and his heart began pounding harder as the various words and phrases caught his attention. Jedi Council…Old Republic…Battle of Naboo…Sith Lords…Jedi Temple…Separatist Movement…Battle of Geonosis…the Clone Wars…

What happened to the High King?” Feyre asked. Rhys ran a hand over a page of the book. “Fionn was betrayed by his queen, who had been leader of her own territory, and by his dearest friend, who was his general. They killed him, taking some of his bloodline’s most powerful and precious weapons, and then out of the chaos that followed, the seven High Lords rose, and the courts have been in place ever since.” Feyre asked, “Does Amren remember this?” Rhys shook his head. “Only vaguely now. From what I’ve gleaned, she arrived during those years before Fionn and Gwydion rose, and went into the Prison during the Age of Legends—the time when this land was full of heroic figures who were keen to hunt down the last members of their former masters’ race. They feared Amren, believing her one of their enemies, and threw her into the Prison. When she emerged again, she’d missed Fionn’s fall and the loss of Gwydion, and found the High Lords ruling.” Nesta considered all Lanthys had said. “And what is Narben?” “Lanthys asked about it?” “He said my sword isn’t Narben. He sounded surprised.” Rhys studied her blade. “Narben is a death-sword. It’s lost, possibly destroyed, but stories say it can slay even monsters like Lanthys.

Although the Jedi Order had deliberately banished Ilum from all standard star charts for many centuries, almost every Jedi trainee dreamed of visiting the sacred, secret planet in the Unknown Regions. That was because many generations of Jedi had gathered crystals from Ilum to energize their lightsabers, and some Jedi maintained that Ilum crystals were the finest in the galaxy.

It was different somehow. He tested it, sweeping the blade through the air. The blade was still pure energy and without weight, but it seemed more precise and focused. Obi-Wan looked to Qui-Gon, who smiled as if he could read his Padawan’s thoughts. Qui-Gon said, “Some Jedi claim that Ilum crystals make one feel more connected with the Force.

What could Qui-Gon be thinking? Even with that kind of midi-chlorian count, the boy’s too old to begin Jedi training. It’s not as if we can do anything beyond possibly liberating him from the Toydarian’s ownership.

The boy’s eyes went wide with worry at this, and he exclaimed, “What are we gonna do about it?” Obi-Wan glanced at the boy. We? Qui-Gon sighed, then faced Anakin and said, “We shall be patient.” Then he gestured from the boy to his apprentice and said, “Anakin Skywalker, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi.” “Hi,” Anakin said as he pumped Obi-Wan’s hand. “Are you a Jedi, too?” Obi-Wan smiled politely and nodded. Anakin smiled back. “Pleased to meet you.” He looks so…ordinary, Obi-Wan thought.

You’ve been a good apprentice, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said with a smile. “And you’re a much wiser man than I am. I foresee you will become a great Jedi Knight.

Obi-Wan realized that his Master had not left him alone, and that he had an entirely new purpose to fulfill.

Master Yoda, I gave Qui-Gon my word. I will train Anakin.” “Ohh!” Yoda grunted, then turned and resumed pacing. “Without the approval of the Council, if I must.” Facing away from Obi-Wan, Yoda said, “Qui-Gon’s defiance I sense in you. Need that you do not.” He paused, then added, “Agree with you, the Council does.” Turning to face Obi-Wan again, he said, “Your apprentice, Skywalker will be.

Two months later, on June 27, we get another glimpse of Moby-Dick in the making, this time in a letter to his English publisher, Richard Bentley, to whom he expressed the hope that he would have the book done by fall. It will be, he says, “a romance of adventure, founded upon certain wild legends in the Southern Sperm Whale Fisheries, and illustrated by the author’s own personal experience, of two years & more, as a harpooneer.” In this bit of self-advertising, Melville was reverting to his old hyperbolics. The truth was less glamorous: the only ship on which he might have served as harpooneer was the Charles and Henry, on which he had lived and worked for not quite six months, from early November 1842 to mid-May 1843, and for which he had probably signed up as a boatsteerer.

Initially, Obi-Wan considered training Anakin as his debt to Qui-Gon. However, over the course of time and numerous missions, Obi-Wan came to regard Anakin as something more than his own personal responsibility. Anakin—impossible as he could be—had become Obi-Wan’s friend.

Luke was disappointed that the entry ended there. While he set the book aside and checked on the furnace again, he wondered why Ben hadn’t written more about the Clone Wars. It never occurred to him that Ben might have sometimes wished he couldn’t remember the Clone Wars at all.

An old friend has learned the path to immortality,” Yoda said. “One who has returned from the netherworld of the Force. Your old Master.” Astonished, Obi-Wan gasped, “Qui-Gon?” “How to commune with him, I will teach you.

He’s not thinking like a Jedi, Obi-Wan thought ruefully. He’s letting his emotions interfere with our assignment. Obi-Wan wondered if the Jedi Council had made a mistake when they had assigned him and Anakin to protect Padmé, but then it hadn’t been entirely the Council’s decision. It had been Supreme Chancellor Palpatine’s idea.

Although Obi-Wan had never really known his own family, he did have sympathy for Anakin’s loss. And as Anakin’s powers grew stronger, Obi-Wan began to believe that his Padawan may have been transformed by the tragedy for the better.

Shmi Skywalker had not died alone. Ben did not have to guess who had slaughtered the Tuskens. “Now you know,” said Qui-Gon Jinn’s disembodied voice.

As the phantom pain chewed at his right wrist, Luke wondered what exactly had happened all those years ago on an unidentified world, along the shores of a lava river.

The problem was Obi-Wan remembered so many good years with Anakin, and really had loved him like a brother. It was still so hard for him to believe that Anakin had turned to evil. And even after all the unforgivable things he had done under the name of Darth Vader, Obi-Wan still found himself missing his friend Anakin Skywalker.

Tolkien THE HOBBIT LEAF BY NIGGLE ON FAIRY-STORIES FARMER GILES OF HAM THE HOMECOMING OF BEORHTNOTH THE LORD OF THE RINGS THE ADVENTURES OF TOM BOMBADIL THE ROAD GOES EVER ON (WITH DONALD SWANN) SMITH OF WOOTTON MAJOR WORKS PUBLISHED POSTHUMOUSLY SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT, PEARL AND SIR ORFEO* THE FATHER CHRISTMAS LETTERS THE SILMARILLION* PICTURES BY J.R.R. TOLKIEN* UNFINISHED TALES* THE LETTERS OF J.R.R. TOLKIEN* FINN AND HENGEST MR BLISS THE MONSTERS AND THE CRITICS & OTHER ESSAYS* ROVERANDOM THE CHILDREN OF HÚRIN* THE LEGEND OF SIGURD AND GUDRÚN* THE FALL OF ARTHUR* BEOWULF: A TRANSLATION AND COMMENTARY* THE STORY OF KULLERVO THE LAY OF AOTROU & ITROUN BEREN AND LÚTHIEN* THE FALL OF GONDOLIN* THE NATURE OF MIDDLE-EARTH THE HISTORY OF MIDDLE-EARTH – BY CHRISTOPHER TOLKIEN ​I THE BOOK OF LOST TALES, PART ONE ​II THE BOOK OF LOST TALES, PART TWO ​III THE LAYS OF BELERIAND ​IV THE SHAPING OF MIDDLE-EARTH ​V THE LOST ROAD AND OTHER WRITINGS ​VI THE RETURN OF THE SHADOW ​VII THE TREASON OF ISENGARD VIII THE WAR OF THE RING ​IX SAURON DEFEATED ​X MORGOTH’S RING ​XI THE WAR OF THE JEWELS ​XI THE PEOPLES OF MIDDLE-EARTH

[...] Am I boring you, Hirad?" "What do you think?" "Your ignorance is not my concern," said Denser. "Gods falling, Denser, I've been dead ten years. There are gaps in my knowledge." "There were plenty of those when you were alive." "It was part of my charm," said Hirad.

[...] Hirad, are you getting this?" "Sort of." "Gods falling, a sign of life!

In the story, The Alchemist, a young Shepard named Santiago went looking for treasure. He traveled the world to fulfill his Personal Legend. On his way, he meets and falls in love with a beautiful and exotic woman named Fatima." “He says to her, ‘So I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you.’ Noah and Arie, I can assure you that like Santiago and Fatima, the universe conspired to help you two find each other." “I wish you a lifetime of more love than anyone could dream of and more happiness than the grains of sand on earth.

To live without leaving a mark is a terrible thing. To die forgotten is even worse.

I’m going to ask you a question,” Herobrine said, “and if you refuse to answer, or lie to me, the trapdoor below your creeper friend will open, and he’ll fall into the lava.” “Hey, that’s not fair!” said Carl. “Why can’t you drop Porkins into the lava instead?

The Horrifying Origin of Herobrine You probably heard about Herobrine. He walks through each Minecraft world at will like a ghost, haunting newbies and tripping them so they fall off a mountain. Some say Herobrine is the first ever player to be killed by a Creeper, while others say he’s the dead brother of Minecraft creator, Notch, seeking revenge for countless wedgies and Indian burns. You can see Herobrine peeking from beyond every tree, mocking you, judging you. Another Herobrine legend says he’s an Enderman that tried to become human, with the conversion ritual going horribly wrong and getting him stuck in between dimensions, in a state of permanent unlife and undeath. Except, none of these legends are true. Herobrine originally began existence as a prank. One popular Minecraft gamer decided to make up a story about a ghost character inside Minecraft, but his idea backfired in a way when people actually believed him. Of course, some simply pretended so as to promote the joke, but the legend caught on and thus Herobrine was born. Later on, Minecraft developers would join in and add a note to each update stating “Removed Herobrine”. This only added fuel to the fires of speculation and soon enough there were entire Youtube channels devoted to finding, fighting and defeating Herobrine. While there probably are Minecraft mods that try to add Herobrine to the game, he doesn’t exist as such and is only a myth. Let me say that one more time: there is no Herobrine. Now that you know the truth, please don’t spoil the fun for people who think he’s real. Let’s keep the truth between us.