Le fou et l'assassin - Intégrale, tome 1

"Then, from the gleaming mists that surrounded us, there burst a wolf, all black and silver. He was covered in scars and death clung to him as water clings to a dog's coat after he has plunged through a river. My father was with him, and in him and around him, and never had I realized him as he was. He bled from dozens of unhealable wounds and yet at the core of him, life burned like molten gold in a furnace." - Bee Badgerlock's Dream Journal.

A secret is only yours so long as you don't share it. Tell it to one person, and it's a secret no more.

Que n'aurais-je pas fait pour protéger ma petite fille ? Quel acte aurais-je jugé trop extrême ? Si je dis : « Je les aurais tous tués sans le moindre regret », cela fait-il de moi un monstre ?

Ou seulement un père ?

I loved that man as I have loved no one else. I do not say I loved him more than I love your mother. But that the way I loved him was different. But if you have heard there was anything improper in our bond, there was not. That was not what we were to one another. What we had went beyond that.

When I was still a young man, I felt in my flesh like a bent old gaffer, full of pains and sighs. Oh, how I pitied myself, and justified every wild decision I had ever made! And then, when it came time for me to be wise elder of my household, I was trapped in the body of a man of middle years, still subject to those passions and impulses, still relying on the strength of my right arm when I would have been wiser to stop and employ my powers of reason.
Lessons learned too late. Insights discovered decades later.
And so much lost as a result.

"Please, Fitz. Please. They must be killed. It's the only way to stop them." He took in a painful gasp of air. "Fitz, would you assassinate them? All of them. Put an end to them and the horrible things they are doing?"
He paused and added the words I'd dreaded hearing. "Please. For me."

Comprendre comment ou pourquoi est rarement aussi utile que comprendre que les choses sont.

La neige tombait sur un couteau boisé ; j'insipirai profondément pour m'apaiser et perçus une vague odeur de cerf dans l'air vif. Je souris ; ne te ronge pas pour hier, ne t'inquiète pas de demain. Laisse ton cœur chasser, repose toi dans la neige. Je remplis lentement mes poumons et les vidai sans hâte. Je flottai, dormant mais éveillé. J'étais un loup sur un versant couvert de neige, humant le fumant d'un cerf et vivant dans l'instant.

What would I not have done to protect my little daughter? What action would have been too extreme? If I say, "I would have killed them all, with no regrets," does that make me a monster?

Or just a father?

The loneliness can never be filled by anyone except the one whose loss created the absence.