Our Deepest Fear by Marianne Williamson

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." - Marianne Williamson

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Quip from "Heart's Armor"

This is a piece from the book I've sent to publishers.  I think it needs polishing still.

“You are returned,” he heard his father say.

“Sire,” it was Lane that answered.  “I have.”

“Anything?”

“Nothing, sire.  They have vanished.  It is as though the world swallowed them.”

He heard his father heave a huge sigh.  “Airik?”

“He still searches,” Came Lane’s heavy reply.  “He will not be called back from the search.”

A humph from his father and then another heavy sigh.

“I do not know how he is still alive, Sire.”  It was the surgeon’s voice breaking through this time.   
 “The blade should have ripped through his heart or even pierced his lung.  It missed all things vital.”

“The prince,” Lane’s voice was louder as he started to approach only to be called back by the surgeon.

“He is not out of the fire yet,” the surgeon said.  “The wound is deep and may still have touched his heart.  For now,”  there was a pause as he guessed the surgeon to be weighing his words, “he lives.”

“Do what you must to bring my son back to me,” his father commanded.  Then his voice changed as he turned to Lane.  “Find her.  Find her before he wakes.”

He woke with a start, sucking in a deep breath that made him wince. He was alone.  He could tell that much by the silence that surrounded him.  He blinked away the sleep and the dream from his eyes.  He hated that dream, hated it more because it had been no dream at all but a memory instead.  It was that memory that had him here in the first place, deep the enemy lands searching for peace.  He thought to find that peace when his blade at last found the heart and his hands ripped that heart from the chest of one man
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