Slow Signal Fade ebooks

Some there be who tell us
that we are but bubbles born of the stream to be swallowed up by the
stream, clouds born of the sky to be swallowed up by the sky, the
offspring of chance like the beasts and the birds, gnats that dance for
an hour in the sunlight and are gone. But I believe it not, who hold
that the gods clothe us with this robe of flesh for their own purpose,
and that the spirit within us has been from the beginning and eternally
will be. Therefore I love not life and fear not death, knowing that
these are but doors leading to the immortal house that is prepared for
us. The royal blood you have came to you from your mother and myself,
but that our lots should have been humble, while yours, mayhap, will be
splendid, does not move me to envy who perchance have been that you may
be. You go forth to fulfil your fortunes which I believe are great, I
bide here to fulfil mine which lead me to the tomb. I shall never see
you in your power, if power comes to you, nor will your triumphant
footsteps stir my sleep.


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