You don’t know for certain about God until you’re dead.
Don Sisco y Vivera, in July of 1588.
I’d say we’re in the sewer, up to our chins, and the tide’s coming in fast.
Get your wits about you and take the juice out of every day, however bad.
I wandered from village to village. A few days here, half a year there, like a butterfly on the summer’s breath.
Beauty Is not less For falling In the breeze.
God curse me and my lack of wits! Why don’t I know what to do easily?
What is pain to a man? A privilege! Masking pain is the measure of a man.
His eyes Were just the end Of Hell – All pain, Articulate.
If you allow Their chill to reach Into the great, great deep, You become one with them, Inarticulate.
What nonsense it all is! Catholic and Protestant and Calvinist and Lutherist and every other shitist.
To think bad thoughts is really the easiest in the world. If you leave your mind to itself it will spiral you down into ever-increasing unhappiness.
Empires are built by young men, Culum. They’re lost by old men.
Put aside your sadness. Life is all sadness.
But generally there’s good in evil people and evil in good people. You must choose the good and get rid of the evil without sacrificing the good. There’s no waste in my domains to be cast away lightly.
What about bushido? the ghosts of his ancestors had always asked him. What about bushido? he had always asked them back. They had never answered.
Isn’t it only through laughter that we become one with the gods and thus can endure life and can overcome all the horror and waste and suffering here on earth? Like tonight, watching all those brave men meet their fate here, on this shore, on this gentle night, through a karma ordained a thousand lifetimes ago, or perhaps even one. Isn’t it only through laughter we can stay human?
It’s vast to be alive,” he said happily. “I can almost hear the rain waiting to be born.
Poor God,” Blackthorne said. “The stupidities He gets blamed for!
Men need to share secrets. That’s why we’re superior to them and they’ll always be in our power.
The Blessed Jesus said, ‘First cast the mote out of your own eye before you cast the beam out of mine.