Where the holy take men for fools, the mad take the world. —
Where hopes burn bright, he said, patience is quickly consumed.
We must speak plainly. Only honesty provides truth. Only truth delivers triumph.
The air became dry and still, like the gap in a dead man’s mouth.
Sit with a merchant or sit with a beggar, and it’ll always be the beggar who buys your first drink.
Of course he could see only blackness, such was the treachery of fire, which iluminated small circles by darkening the entire world.
No decision is so fine as to not bind us to its consequences. No consequence is so unexpected as to absolve us of our decisions. Not even death.
Master, Malowebi once asked, what is the path to truth? Ah, little Malo, old Zabwiri had replied, the answer is not so difficult as you think. The trick is to learn how to pick out fools. Look for tho...
Masses of warring men animated the horizon, crashing into stubborn ranks, churning in melee. The air didn’t so much thunder as hiss with the sound of distant battle, like a sea heard through a conch s...
Here we find further argument for Gotagga’s supposition that the world is round. How else could all men stand higher than their brothers?
Given the manifest frailty of men, given the long succession of delusions that was their history, what could be more preposterous than claiming oneself the least deluded, let alone privy to the absolu...
Die Welt ist ein Kreis, der so viele Mittelpunkte wie Bewohner hat.
Convince a man to take a single step—after all, what earthly difference could one step make?—and he would walk the next mile to prove himself right.
All men recited self-aggrandizing stories, words of ascendancy and exception, to balm the inevitable indignities of fact. An emperor need only repeat those stories to command the hearts of men.
All Kellhus could see of his father were two fingers and a thumb lying slack upon a bare thigh. The thumbnail gleamed.As Dûnyain, the disembodied voice continued, you had no choice. To command yoursel...
. . and that revelation murdered all that I once did know. Where once I asked of the God, 'Who are you?' now I ask, 'Who am I?
Where power was perceived, power was given. For his entire life Conphas had been surrounded by tutors.
What did they know of motherhood, the mad miracle of finding your interior drawn from you, clinging and bawling and giggling and learning everything there was to learn anew?
Truths were carved from the identical wood as were lies—words—and so sank or floated with equal ease.
The vulgar think the God by analogy to man and so worship Him in the form of the Gods. The learned think the God by analogy to principles and so worship Him in the form of Love or Truth. But the wises...