The only mercy of children is that they grow up, as my son has but then, tragically, they beget more children. We do not learn life’s lessons.
BERNARD CORNWELLWe discover that it is all an illusion and nothing is there. Lust is a voyage to nowhere, to an empty land, but some men just love such voyages and never care about the destination. Love is a voyage too, a voyage with no destination except death, but a voyage of bliss.
More Bernard Cornwell Quotes
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The existence of tricks does not imply the absence of magic.
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This is our land, mixed with our blood, strengthened with our bone. Ours!
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Latin! The language of God! Or perhaps He speaks Hebrew? I suppose that’s more likely and it will make things rather awkward in heaven, won’t it? Will we all have to learn Hebrew?
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Because there could not be peace, not while two tribes shared one land. One tribe must win.
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We don’t build,’ I said to my son, ‘we just destroy.
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So far it’s 43 books in 25 years.
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I’m fortunate that the books sell, but even more fortunate to live in Chatham, to be very happily married and to have, on the whole, a fairly clear conscience.
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Looking back, of course, it was irresponsible, mad, forlorn, idiotic, but if you don’t take chances then you’ll never have a winning hand, and I’ve no regrets.
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Of course some days are easier than others, but my worst day is better than being in most humdrum occupations.
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Even the nailed god cannot change that truth. And I was a warrior, and in a world at war the warrior must be cruel.
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Because there could not be peace, not while two tribes shared one land. One tribe must win. Even the nailed god cannot change that truth. And I was a warrior, and in a world at war the warrior must be cruel.
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I do understand that you can look into someone’s eyes,” I heard myself saying, “and suddenly know that life will be impossible without them.
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I sometimes wonder what would have happened if the first book had not sold… doesn’t bear thinking about, but I suppose we’d have made it work somehow.
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The bards sing of love, they celebrate slaughter, they extol kings and flatter queens, but were I a poet I would write in praise of friendship.
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Pride makes a man, it drives him, it is the shield wall around his reputation… Men die, they said, but reputation does not die.
BERNARD CORNWELL