Was all human endeavor then, even the beautiful of the world, of so little consequence compared with murder? - Halldór Laxness

A man's conscience is an unsteady judge of right and wrong.

After Bjartur had become a person of great worth, even he was prone to admit on occasion that life had sometimes been pretty hard in Summerhouses in the old days, but one has to take a few knocks if one wants to get on, surely, and anyway we never ate other folk's bread. Other folk's bread is the most virulent form of poison that a free and independent man can take; other folk's bread is the only thing that can rob him of independence and the one true freedom.

He who weeps does not die; weeping is a sign of life; weep, and your life is worth something again.