It is many years since I have wielded a weapon larger than a pen, borne anything weightier than a difficult problem in philosophy. - Michael Moorcock

The poor man has sacrificed himself for others, but he could not help resenting them from time to time.

We have a scanty notion of justice and the obligations of rule involve little more than inventing new terrors by which we may cow and control others. Power, I think, is a habit as terrible as the potion I must now sip in order to sustain myself. It feeds upon itself. It is a hungry beast, devouring those who would possess it and those who hate it—devouring even those who own it.

Somewhere you can hear them whimpering, as if the evidence of their own mortality were emphasised by the knowledge of other people’s happiness.