Is it treason to say the truth? A bitter truth, but no less true for that.

Of all the bright cruel lies they tell you, the cruelest is the one called love.

I have touched more men that I can count. Some with my lips, more with my axe.

Show me the path I must walk and do not let me stumble in the dark places that lie ahead.

The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.

In a room sit three great men, a king, a priest, and a rich man with his gold. Between them stands a sellsword, a little man of common birth and no great mind. Each of the great ones bids him slay the other two. ‘Do it,’ says the king, ‘for I am your lawful ruler.’ ‘Do it,’ says the priest, ‘for I command you in the names of the gods.’ ‘Do it,’ says the rich man, ‘and all this gold shall be yours.’ So tell me—who lives and who dies?

The morning air was dark with the smoke of burning gods.