Love is a dangerous thing. It comes in disguise to change our life… Lust is the deceiver. Lust wrenches our lives until nothing matters except the one we think we love, and under that deceptive spell we kill for them, give all for them, and then, when we have what we have wanted.
BERNARD CORNWELLI’ll happily mentor anyone who wants mentoring, and most of that goes on by internet rather than face to face.
More Bernard Cornwell Quotes
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But when you have order, you don’t need Gods. When everything is well ordered and disciplined then nothing is unexpected.
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Only a fool wants war, but once a war starts then it cannot be fought half-heartedly. It cannot even be fought with regret, but must be waged with a savage joy in defeating the enemy, and it is that savage joy that inspires our bards to write their greatest songs about love and war.
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Television is a young person’s medium.
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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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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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The existence of tricks does not imply the absence of magic.
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So far it’s 43 books in 25 years.
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A man does not see where he treads in battle, for he is watching the enemy.
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Book tours and research provide a lot of travel – too much, I sometimes think, but we do take vacations.
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Life is a jest of the Gods and there is no justice. You must learn to laugh… or else you’ll weep yourself to death.
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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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We make children and wealth and amass land and build halls and assemble armies and give great feasts, but only one thing survives us. Reputation.
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We 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.
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This is our land, mixed with our blood, strengthened with our bone. Ours!
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We don’t build,’ I said to my son, ‘we just destroy.
BERNARD CORNWELL