To indulge it is to breed it. To punish it is to feed it. Madness knows no bridle but the knife.
R. Scott BakkerHistory. Language. Passion. Custom. All these things determine what men say, think, and do. These are the hidden puppet-strings from which all men hang.
R. Scott BakkerYou know nothing of war. War is dark. Black as pitch. It is not a God. It does not laugh or weep. It rewards neither skill nor daring. It is not a trial of souls, not the measure of wills. Even less is it a tool, a means to some womanish end. It is merely the place where the iron bones of the earth meet the hollow bones of men and break them.
R. Scott Bakker