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Quote by Susan Spencer-Wendel

“I thought of my new uncertainty: How long can I live with ALS? I thought: "Don't search for answers. Live the question." Enjoy life more because of the uncertainty, not less.”

Quote by Susan Spencer-Wendel

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Susan Spencer-Wendel

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“The occult war is a battle that is waged imperceptibly by the forces of global subversion, with means and in circumstances ignored by current historiography. The notion of occult war belongs to a three-dimensional view of history: this viewdoes not regard as essential the two superficial dimensions of time and space (which include causes, facts, and visible leaders) but rather emphasizes the dimension of depth, or the "subterranean" dimension in which forces and influences often act in a decisive manner, and which, more often not than not, cannot be reduced to what is merely human, whether at an individual or a collective level”

HistoryUnconsciousChthonicTelluricOccult War
Book:Men Among the Ruins: Post-War Reflections of a Radical Traditionalist
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“It is possible to sit still and watch your thoughts arise and then, without grabbing them, watch them disappear. This is the practice of meditation and mindfulness, a practice that you learn to carry with you. The goal isn’t to stop thoughts. Instead, the goal is the practice of seeing them clearly as they come into view and then letting them go. If you can notice anger or anxiety arising at the ground level, in its first inception, then you can easily watch it dissolve. In these instances, it is present sight, not hindsight, that is 20/20.”

Meditation QuotesHindsightNote To SelfSitting StillStillness QuotesMindful QuotesBeing HereWatching Your MindSeeing Clearly Quotes
Author:Eric Overby
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“The faeries took no notice of my cry. No doubt they were used to lost travelers screaming for help. One of them grabbed me by my cloak and wrenched me painfully back and forth, like an animal wishing to drag me to the ground. But I did not need to call for Wendell again. He stepped out from behind a tree---or perhaps from the tree; I didn't see. He reached a hand out and snapped the neck of the faerie gripping me, which I had not expected, and I staggered back from both him and the crumpling body. He saw the mark on my neck, and his entire face darkened with something that seemed to go beyond fury and made him look like some feral creature. The faeries scattered like leaves, though they were too intrigued and too stupid to run. "Are you hurt?" "No." I don't know how I made myself speak. I have seen Wendell angry before, but this was something that seemed to surge through him like lightning, threatening to burn everything in its path. He moved his hand, and a hideous tree rose up from the snow, dark and terrifying, all thorns and knife-sharp branches. The boughs darted out, and he skewered the faeries on them. Once they were all immobilized, held squirming and screaming above the ground, he moved from one to the other, tearing them apart with perfect, calm brutality. Limbs, hearts, other organs I did not recognize scattered the snow. He did not rush, but killed them methodically while the others howled and writhed.”

RescuedDark HeroFaerie MagicGory Mess
Book:Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries
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“Wendell marched down a winding path in the mountainside--- he must have conjured it himself--- to engage the elder horsemen in a square of meadow tucked between two crags. I don't know if it was some inane faerie custom or simply the custom of the horsemen, but the one who appeared to be their leader--- judging by the size of his horse and the number of scars he bore--- stepped forward as if to challenge Wendell to single combat. Wendell, still with that calm detachment, somehow cut out the beast's heart in two sharp movements and hurled it at the rider in a stomach-churning spray of blood, knocking him from his saddle. At that point, the remaining horsemen decided to abandon honor and charge him together, but their horses were, wisely, terrified of Wendell by this point, and shied away when he neared, some throwing their riders off, which Wendell dispatched in various appalling ways, sometimes appearing to forget about his sword entirely. Rose stood there the whole time, aghast, but I was familiar with Wendell's murderous moods and turned away after the third or fourth death, drawing Ariadne with me to the fireside. I was still shaking with fury. So he would risk killing himself rather than pausing to think our way out of things, would he?”

GoreHorsemenFaerie KingDark HeroSwordfight
Book:Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands
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