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Lost Prince of Nevaharday

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Elizabeth Carlton

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“ALL ARE WELCOME. (NO FIGHTING.) That rule is simple on the surface, but not easy in the execution, because Maz Kanata's castle has been a meeting place since time immemorial-- a nexus point drawing together countless lines of allegiance and opposition, a place not only where friend and foe can meet, but where complex conflicts are worn down flat so that all may sit, have a drink and a meal, listen to a song, and broker whatever deals their hearts or politics require. That's why the flags outside her castle represent hundreds of cities and civilizations and guilds from before forever. The galaxy is not now, nor has it ever been, two polar forces battling for supremacy. It has been thousands of forces: a tug-of-war not with as ingle rope but a spider's web of influence, dominance, and desire. Clans and cults, tribes and families, governments and anti-governments. Queens, satraps, warlords! Diplomats, buccaneers, droids! Slicers, spicers, ramblers, and gamblers! To repeat: ALL ARE WELCOME. (NO FIGHTING.)”

Maz Kanata
Book:Life Debt
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“...човек невинаги може да възстанови личните си граници, след като е допуснал да бъдат размити и прекрачени от друго човешко същество в процеса на романтична връзка: колкото и да се опитваме не можем да възвърнем онази автономност на личността, която сме си въобразявали че притежаваме”

LoveRelationships
Book:The Reluctant Fundamentalist
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“Holding up an oil-paper umbrella, I loiter aimlessly in the long, long And lonely rainy alley, I hope to encounter A lilac-like girl Nursing her resentment A lilac-like color she has A lilac-like fragrance, A lilac-like sadness, Melancholy in the rain, Sorrowful and uncertain; She loiters aimlessly in this lonely rainy alley Holding up an oil-paper umbrella Just like me And just like me Walks silently, Apathetic, sad and disconsolate Silently she moves closer Moves closer and casts A sigh-like glance She glides by Like a dream Hazy and confused like a dream As in a dream she glides past Like a lilac spray, This girl glides past beside me; She silently moves away, moves away Up to the broken-down bamboo fence, To the end of the rainy alley. In the rains sad song, Her color vanishes Her fragrance diffuses, Even her Sigh-like glance, Lilac-like discontent Vanish. Holding up an oil-paper umbrella, alone Aimlessly walking in the long, long And lonely rainy alley, I wish for A lilac-like girl Nursing her resentment glide by.”

PoemRainUmbrellaLilacRain Alley
Author:Dai Wangshu
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“A scholarly acquaintance in Samarkand had sent my colleague the finest and rarest tulips, as perfectly fresh as though they had just been cut from the stem. He was principally concerned with the microscopic study of their internal organs, especially of the pollen. He therefore dissected a beautiful lilac and yellow tulip, and discovered inside the calyx a tiny grain of alien matter which caught his attention in a singular fashion. How great was his astonishment when, on applying the magnifying glass, he clearly perceived that the tiny grain was none other than Princess Gamaheh, who was reposing on the pollen of the tulip's calyx and seemed to be sleeping calmly and peacefully.”

LilacTulipMaster FleaCalyx
Book:The Golden Pot and Other Tales
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“Remember that ladylike behaviour of yours?” I call out, letting her hear the smile in my voice. “This is the time for it. No pushing, shoving, screaming, or—“ I don’t get any further. She’s heard the shift in my voice and crossed the hallway in a heartbeat. She wastes only a moment in gaping, then shoves past me to dash across the pile of clothes, laughing. “Tarver, Tarver. There are—can you see them all?” She’s running the flashlight over the offerings, revealing swaths of fabric of every colour. I’ve got my mouth half open to reply when she starts unzipping the mechanic’s suit, and then my mouth falls the rest of the way open by itself. It’s dark inside the room, but I catch a quick glimpse of pale skin beneath the remnants of her dress before I remember myself, and decide to take a good, hard look at my boots. To judge by the sounds over on the other side of the room, she’s forgotten I exist. The mechanic’s suit must have been really uncomfortable, even wearing it over her dress, if she’s that eager to get it off while I’m standing here. “There’s dresses,” she whispers, and I catch a movement in my peripheral vision. Oh, God, come on. It’s the mechanic’s suit and the ruined green dress being kicked across the floor away from her. So what does that mean she’s wearing right now? She didn’t actually say I couldn’t look. “Don’t look,” she cautions me, as though she just read my mind. Dammit.”

LilacTarver
Author:Amie Kaufman & Meagan Spooner
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