It was a mess. How could a man think clearly when he could not distinguish between an idiotic subconscious urge and common sense? - Jack Vance

“Poor Pymfyd! Your world is built of fear and dread! As for me, I have no time for such emotions.”
Pymfyd spoke in an even voice. “You are a royal princess and I may not call you a witless little fool, even should the thought cross my mind.”
Madouc turned him a sad blue-eyed glance. “So that, after all, is your concept of me.”
“I will say only this: persons who fear nothing are soon dead.”

“Crime occurs when the social structure is in itself inattentive and unwieldy,” she added offhandedly, “when the culture provides no scope for fulfillment.”

Jaro, my dear, there is no mystery about violence. It is the reflexive act of brutes, boors and moral defectives.