All My Life Men Like You've Sneered

You Could Make A Poultice Out Of Mud To Cool A Fever. You Could Plant Seeds In Mud And Grow A Crop To Feed Your Children. Mud Would Nourish You, Where Fire Would Only Consume You, But Fools And Children And Young Girls Would Choose Fire Every Time.

Lords Are Gold And Knights Steel, But Two Links Can't Make A Chain. You Also Need Silver And Iron And Lead, Tin And Copper And Bronze And All The Rest, And Those Are Farmers And Smiths And Merchants And The Like. A Chain Needs All Sorts Of Metals, And A Land Needs All Sorts Of People.

I've Never Been Quite Sure What The Point Of A Eunuch Is, If Truth Be Told. It Seems To Me They're Only Men With The Useful Bits Cut Off.

And If I'm Guilty Of Having Gratuitous Sex, Then I'm Also Guilty Of Having Gratuitous Violence, And Gratuitous Feasting, And Gratuitous Description Of Clothes, And Gratuitous Heraldry, Because Very Little Of This Is Necessary To Advance The Plot. But My Philosophy Is That Plot Advancement Is Not What The Experience Of Reading Fiction Is About. If All We Care About Is Advancing The Plot, Why Read Novels? We Can Just Read Cliffs Notes.

...grief Can Derange Even The Strongest And Most Disciplined Of Minds.