Web Of Wyrd Quotes

But the threads of wyrd are a dimension of ourselves that we cannot grasp with words. We spin webs of words, yet wyrd slips through like the wind. The secrets of wyrd do not lie in our word-hoards, but are locked in the soul. We can only discern the shadows

in “Wyrd Sisters was plagiarized from Shakespeare.” That was a book of mine and, yes, well, it certainly does add to the enjoyment if you’ve heard of a certain Scottish play and … er … where do I start?) Now add to this the growth of strange ideas about copyright. At one end of the spectrum I get nervous letters asking “Will it be all right if I name my cat after one of your characters?” At the other are the e-mails like: “I enjoyed the story so much that I’ve scanned it in and put it on my Web page … hope you don’t mind.” Copyright is either thought to exist in every single word, or not at all. In short, I began to worry, in this overheated atmosphere, about what would happen if I used a story line that a fan had already posted on the Net or on some fan-fiction Web page.

The three Norns weave the web of wyrd blindly according to Orlog.

Maycarpe was aware that his eyes had become wet. He had worked so hard for this, risking his life and his sanity, yet he would always be part of the shadows. Not for him the long gracious walk to the altar where the prize of all prizes, the crown of divine kingship, would be placed upon his head. Not for him the joyous tears and laughter of an entire nation. He was one of the spiders on the web of wyrd. He could devour what became emeshed in his deadly silk, or he could choose to release those bright beautiful dragonflies that were too precious to die. But no one knew that. The people outside today wouldn’t look twice at him, he was nothing more than an adminstrative clerk of the government, who when the coronation party was over, would go home alone to his modest apartment in the palace.

The kind of anguish you felt when the one thing you cared about in the entire world walked away from you.

When you compare the sorrows of real life to the pleasures of the imaginary one, you will never want to live again; only dream forever.