In the end, all men die. How you lived will be far more important to the Almighty than what you accomplished.

You're a very difficult person to manipulate, you know." "Nonsense," he said. "You just have to promise me that I won't have to do a thing, and then I'll do anything you want." "Anything?" "Anything that doesn't require doing anything." "That's nothing, then." "Is it?" "Yes." "Well, that's something.

You're a sword not a palm tree

You will find that hate can unify people more quickly and more fervently than devotion ever could.

The right belief is like a good cloak, I think. If it fits you well, it keeps you warm and safe. The wrong fit however, can suffocate.

Those candle flames were like the lives of men. So fragile. So deadly. Left alone, they lit and warmed. Let run rampant, they would destroy the very things they were meant to illuminate. Embryonic bonfires, each bearing a seed of destruction so potent it could tumble cities and dash kings to their knees.

I was thinking that work is like fertilizer in that I'm glad it exists; I just don't ever want to get stuck in it.