"What are you looking for? Where will your heart's desire take you? What will satisfy you? Are you going to live, or will you die here? The decision is yours. You're completely in charge of your own destiny; that's the only certain thing in life. Believe in yourself, and create your own destiny. Don't fear failure. You have nothing to lose. No one can stop you. Adventure is waiting for you. You should understand this by now. Time is running out. Open your eyes, shout out, and move forward! This is only the beginning of history!" - Outlaw Star, "Forced Departure"
As Richard lay in the cold, damp, discarded leaves, dead branches, and other refuse of the forest, he considered not getting up ever again. He could just lie there and let it all end, let the indifferent wind freeze his limbs stiff, let the sneaky spiders and snakes and wolves come to bite him and bleed him to death, and then finally the uncaring trees would cover him over, never to be missed except by a few, his vanishing a good riddance to most.
A messenger with a message no one wanted to heed.
A leader come too soon.
Why not just let it end, let silent death take them both to their peace and be done with it?
The scornful trees all watched to see what this unworthy man might do, to see if he had the courage to get to his feet and face what was ahead. He didn’t know himself if he did.
Death was easier, and in that bottomless moment, less painful to consider.
Even Kahlan, as much as he loved her, wanted something from him he could not give her: a lie. She wanted him to tell her that something he knew to be so, was not. He would do anything for her, but he couldn’t change what was. At least she had enough faith in him to let him lead her away from the shadows of tyranny darkening the world. Even if she didn’t believe him, she was probably the only one willing, of her own free will, to follow him.
In truth, he lay on the ground for only seconds, regaining his senses from the fall and catching his breath as the thoughts flooded through his mind-brief seconds in which he allowed himself to be weak, in exchange for how hard he knew everything to come would be.
Weakness, to balance the strength he would need. Doubt, to balance his certainty of purpose. Fear, to balance the courage he would have to call upon.
Even as he wondered if he could get up, he knew he would. His convulsion of self-pity ended abruptly. He would do anything for her. Even this. A thousand times over, even this.
Terry Goodkind, Faith of the Fallen