Orson Scott Card

Some men are great enough that they can love a whole woman, and not just part of her.

What is the White man? What does he do?

The White man is like a human being, but he crushes all other living things under his feet.

Then why, O Ta-Kumsaw, when I look into your heart, why is it that you do not wish to hurt the White man, that you do not wish to kill the White man?

The White man doesn't know the evil that he does. The White man doesn't feel the peace of the land, so how can he tell the little deaths he makes? I can't blame the White man. But I can't let him stay. So when I make him leave this land, I won't hate him.

The fear of death in the one place was not as strong as another kind of fear, the fear of a world gone crazy, a place where anything could happen, where nothing could be trusted, where nothing was certain. A terrible place.

At night in his own bed, Alvin listened to the distant greensong, still warm and beautiful, still bright and hopeful even though the forest was getting so sparse, even though the future was so dim. Cause there's no fear of future in the song of life, just the ever-joyful present moment. That's all I want right now, thought Alvin. The present moment, which is good enough.

What a silly god, he makes everybody born bad to go to burning hell. Why so mad? All his fault!

Taleswapper looked at Miller.

“I'm nothing,” he said.

“A Christian isn’t nothing,” said Taleswapper.

“I'm no Christian, either.”

“Ah,” said Taleswapper. “A Deist, then, like Tom Jefferson.” The children murmured at his mention of the great man's name.

“Taleswapper, I'm a father who loves his children, a husband who loves his wife, a farmer who pays his debts, and a miller without a millstone.”

Don't you hate it when somebody knows you better than you know yourself?

Land was what they wanted, as if the mere ownership of dirt could turn a peasant into a squire.

The doctrine he was going to be teaching, starting tonight, was not the sort of ideology that would stir souls; no one would die for this religion. It would only attracts converts by promising a return to old tradition and by seeming to be the religion of the future.

The most evil creatures don’t desire the destruction of everything—they only desire to exploit it for themselves.

“You must be a prophet right enough,” said Alvin Junior, “cause I can’t understand a thing you said.”

A man who can't read only knows what other folks tell him.