... and my soldiers, they say, make idols of their swords. But does not the sword make certain? Does not the… — R. Scott Bakker
... and my soldiers, they say, make idols of their swords. But does not the sword make certain? Does not the sword make plain? Does not the sword compel kindness from those who kneel in its shadow? I need no other God.
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More from this book
... for the sin of the idolator is not that he worships stone, but that he worships one stone over others.
Like many old tyrants, I dote upon my grandchildren. I delight in their tantrums, their squealing laughter, their peculiar fancies. I willfully spoil them with honey sticks. And I find myself wondering at their blessed ignorance of the world and its million grinning teeth. Should I, like my grandfather, knock such childishness from them? Or should I indulge their delusions? Even now, as death's shadow pickets gather about me, I ask, Why should innocence answer to the world? Perhaps the world should answer to innocence ...
Yes, I rather like that. I tire of bearing the blame.
For men, no circle is ever closed. We walk ever in spirals.

