Like many old tyrants, I dote upon my grandchildren. I delight in their tantrums, their squealing laughter… — R. Scott Bakker
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.
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