They strike down the weak and call it justice. They ungird their loins and call it reparation. They bark like… — R. Scott Bakker
They strike down the weak and call it justice. They ungird their loins and call it reparation. They bark like dogs and call it reason.
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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.
