Consequences lost all purchase when they became mad. And desperation, when pressed beyond anguish, became narcotic.
R. Scott BakkerSometimes the Nonman would climb upon some wild pulpit, the mossed remains of a fallen tree, the humped back of a boulder, and paint wonders with his dark voice. Wonders and horrors both.
R. Scott BakkerThough all men be equally frail before the world, the differences between them are terrifying.
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