Eric Rücker Eddison

The harvest of this world is to the resolute, and he that is infirm of purpose is ground betwixt the upper and the nether millstone.

— Eric Rücker Eddison

And the Lord Juss cried aloud in his agony, "Fling me to Tartarus, deliver me to the black infernal Furies, let them blind me, seethe me in the burning lake. For so should there yet be hope. But in this horror of Nothing is neither hope nor life nor death nor sleep nor waking, for ever. For ever."

— Eric Rücker Eddison

Can a woman not keep her lover without she study to always please him with pleasure? Pew! then let her give up the game. Or shall my lover think with pleasing of me to win me indeed? Faugh! he payeth me then; doth he think I am for hire?

— Eric Rücker Eddison