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Written WordWhat good are they?They, with their rules,innumerable and structured,vexing young and oldwith their difficulty.The good they do,shining and boundlessoften is unseen.They are tools with which some,flawed,perfect,lauded and disgracedand simple let be knowntheir truest being.HateAdorationPettinessLoyaltyThe color and tone of a soulbe it luminescent or muddiedof ebony or ruby or goldis carried on their tireless back.Proper friendship,a partnership of ink and sheet,can change a life.Meaning bleeds throughthe stock board backinginto the open airto the ears of all.Were we without they,as once we were,nations would fall and savagery return.To use them truely,and treat them justly,is reason unto itself.
No EscapeWhat is evil?I find myself asking this now. Once, I would not have believed in the existence of evil, of the idea of ultimate cruelty and rabid dispassion for life. Cruelty, though, I had once thought I had known. After I had joined the Imperial Army my C.O., a certain Rirax Gamba, was just about as vicious as I could imagine any person being at the time. I was being given a second chance, but that didn't stop him from treating me like the prisoner I was. He was an unwavering force, a wall of Imperial discipline and doctrine. As someone who had grown up without discipline of really any sort, I'd thought him to be a horrible person.Looking back now, I see him as anything but cruel.Now I know cruelty. True, unbridled cruelty.The plan Kira, Ced and I had come up with the attack the Sith Empire's station above Farfinn was admittedly dangerous. We could have engaged the fleet. There was no real defense at the research stations; ships would come and ships would go, but everything seemed