You who are living on mountaintops, you seafarers and moon dwellers, you who are hated for your race's sake, who walk in silence and stare horrified into the future, you who live in constant twilight, and die in Spartan rooms; Odin of the mind is not welcome in an age of mindless entertainment.

Who wants to be right about a race dying? Courageous thinkers, this is not your time. But do not spin away from your bitter tragedy; Northern folk are those who say yes to life as it is.

The Gods will appear when they are needed most, but they will not be welcomed like a newborn child, our enemies may try to strangle the child in his crib.

Let us call up our old religious archetypes, heroes are made in such fatal conditions.

Let us call up are old religious archetypes, heroes are made in such fatal conditions.

Short, sweet, true.

It seems a fact that the old traditions were meant to be activated by disasters. As if the Berserker in all of us can only be triggered when it's past time for reasonable action.

But I still wonder why we always wait till it's so late.