When your forest is so dark you don’t know it yourself, it’s wise not to go on trips of discovery. You can soon find yourself treading on thin air.
What we humans think we know is nothing compared to what we need to believe to numb the fear and pain.
What determined the outcome of a life? A series of random events you had no control over, or did some cosmic gravity pull everything in the direction it was predestined to go?
We don’t punish people because they are evil, but because they make bad choices, choices that are bad for the herd. Morality isn’t heaven-sent or eternal, just a set of rules that benefit the herd.
There were those who asserted that sons always became, to some degree or other, disguised variants of their fathers, that the experience of breaking out was never more than an illusion; you returned; the gravity of blood was not only stronger than your willpower, it was your willpower.
There was only one thing emptier than having lived without love, and that was having lived without pain.
The truth we make for ourselves is just the sum of what is in someone’s interest, balanced by the power they hold.
The Art of War is a manual about tactics on the battlefield, but at its deepest level it describes how to win conflicts. Or to be more precise, the art of getting what you want at the lowest possible price. The winner of a war is not necessarily the victor. Many have won the crown, but lost so much of their army that they can only rule on their ostensibly defeated enemies’ terms.