“Gentlemen," she says, "wherever y’all go, plant these early in the season. Wait a couple of weeks and watch. They’ll survive sun, shade, and drought. And come the second year? They’ll bloom, and that cross’ll shine. It’ll mark your victory. Every seed’s got a soul, and that soul lives in another world. These lil’ brown specs — they’re stardust with roots."
We kiss the air above her hand — as one does — and that’s the last we see of her. But Lord, how could we ever forget her?
Book I, How I, Earl Jenkins, Got Mixed up with a Bunch of sword-swingin´ Saints”
“And Romulus? The lad who once wore the crown of Caesar drank the holy water, bowed to Severinus’ spirit, and put on the sandals of the monks. No big speeches. No lightning bolt from Jupiter. Just quiet steps in a ruined garden. That’s how the last emperor of Rome became the first Knight of the Twilight — a monk without cloister, walking the broken empire with memory in his satchel.”
Source: From Youngstown to Rome´s Fall: How I, Earl Jenkins, Remembered What the Empire Forgot
“State land shrank. Bit by bit, province by province, diocese by diocese, Rome was selling itself away. Wouldn’t be long before we’d sold every field, every vine, every memory.”
Source: From Youngstown to Rome´s Fall: How I, Earl Jenkins, Remembered What the Empire Forgot
“Faunus? That merry old spirit who once filled the glens with whispers and wild birds and good honest fruitfulness? Gone. Chased out like a rat at a monastery banquet.”
Source: From Youngstown to Rome´s Fall: How I, Earl Jenkins, Remembered What the Empire Forgot
“Once she’s dressed — radiant and armored like Venus in court shoes — she floats into her litter or down the palace hall, face veiled just enough for mystery. She’s crowned with a diadem, or sometimes a turban twist, or that curious cone-shaped tutulus that juts from the forehead like a temple spire. There’s a neck-scarf for grace, a handkerchief for dust and sweat (and occasional nose-blowing), and a peacock-feather fan to shoo away flies and men alike. On bright days, an umbrella flutters above her, green as spring, carried by a maid or gallant. And of course — the sacred handbag.”
Source: From Youngstown to Rome´s Fall: How I, Earl Jenkins, Remembered What the Empire Forgot
“When I emphasized how desperately the Huns needed
trade with Rome — to get iron weapons, real shields
instead of bone, real bits and stirrups instead of wood —
Rome the rooster suddenly reared up, opened its golden
beak, and crowed loud enough to shake the rafters.
The signal horns joined in with a blast. Tubae signiferæ uno
impetu concrepuerunt.
And Honorius... burst into gleeful, childlike laughter.
"My golden-throated Rome crows at the start of the third
hour every day — just as it does at the third hour of night.
My Rome, Roma gallus cordis mei, crows twice, three times
a day! And my Rome... is a prophet. A divine seer!”
Source: From Youngstown to Rome´s Fall: How I, Earl Jenkins, Remembered What the Empire Forgot
“Bureaucracy? Dead on arrival.
Military coordination? Like herdin’ greased geese.
Economy? Flatter than a barmaid’s singing voice.
City systems? Hah. Might as well be carved in fog.
All them noble forms of Roman order? Gone fishin’ — and
forgot their pole.”
Source: From Youngstown to Rome´s Fall: How I, Earl Jenkins, Remembered What the Empire Forgot
“Before I leave that peaceful Latinum hill, I sneak a few Salvan Cross seeds into the earth. ‘Cause someday, when all this dust settles and if the gods got a sense of humor left, I’ll come back here and find a garden of truth bloomin’ where the Empire once bled. Aliquando, cum haec omnia pulvis sedebit, et si dii adhuc risum habent, hic redibo et inveniam hortum veritatis florentem ubi olim Imperium sanguinem fundebat.”
Source: From Youngstown to Rome´s Fall: How I, Earl Jenkins, Remembered What the Empire Forgot
“The eagle is not dead. He’s just learnin’ how to fly again.
Aquila non periit — sed artem volandi iterum meditatur.”
Source: From Youngstown to Rome´s Fall: How I, Earl Jenkins, Remembered What the Empire Forgot
“Love is the greatest gift we can give or receive.”
Source: Pestilence