Steven Erikson
Steven Erikson
Steven Eriksonis the pseudonym of Steve Rune Lundin, a Canadian novelist, who was educated and trained as both an archaeologist and anthropologist...
NationalityCanadian
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth7 October 1959
CountryCanada
stars world sun
The stars, they are as the sun. Each star. Every star. And those spheres- they are worlds, realms, each one different yet the same.
diversity suffering demand
Show me a god that does not demand mortal suffering. Show me a god that celebrates diversity, a celebration that embraces even non-believers, and is not threatened by them. Show me a god that understands the meaning of peace. In life, not in death.
responsibility recognition
Fear bespeaks of wisdom. Recognition of responsibility.
dark creating evil
The notion of evil for its own sake strikes me as boring -- all these Dark Lords intent on creating wastelands packed with enslaved victims... for what?
kings wish curious
Curious,” Bauchelain said. “What is it you wish us to do for you?” “Usurp the king,” Imid Factalo said. “Usurp, as in depose.” “Right.” “Depose, as in remove.” “Yes.” “Remove, as in kill.
fists should curse
Ah, Fist, it’s the curse of history that those who should read them, never do.
hero boys decisions-you-make
Every decision you make can change the world. The best life is the one the gods don't notice. You want to live free, boy, live quietly." "I want to be a soldier. A hero." "You'll grow out of it.
citizens
You’re loitering, citizen.” “Actually, I was hesitating.
men should-have mastery
I'll not deny I am impressed by your mastery of six warrens, Quick Ben. In retrospect, you should have held back on at least half of what you command." The man made to rise. "But, Bauchelain," the wizard replied, "I did.
want fists shakes
Shake your fist all you want but dead is dead
song blessed men
He was a man who would never ask for sympathy. He was a man who sought only to do what was right. Such people appear in the world, every world, now and then, like a single refrain of some blessed song, a fragment caught on the spur of an otherwise raging cacophony. Imagine a world without such souls. Yes, it should have been harder to do.
compassion hatred soil
I warn you all, hatred is finding fertile soil within me. And in your compassion, in your every good intention, you nurture it.
brother shadow spinning
Death cannot be struggled against, brother. It ever arrives, defiant of every hiding place, of every frantic attempt to escape. Death is every mortal's shadow, his true shadow, and time is its servant, spinning that shadow slowly round, until what stretched before one now stretched before him.
promise surprise one-thing
The future can ever promise but one thing and one thing only: surprises.