… he handed down orders for men to work on a great mead-hall meant to be a wonder of the world forever; it would be his throne-room and there he woul… - Seamus Heaney

peace is merely the desolation left behind after the decisive operations of merciless power.

As writers and readers, as sinners and citizens, our realism and our aesthetic sense make us wary of crediting the positive note. The very gunfire braces us and the atrocious confers a worth upon the effort which it calls forth to confront it.

The veteran king sat down on the cliff-top.
He wished good luck to the Geats who had shared
his hearth and his gold. He was sad at heart,
unsettled yet ready, sensing his death.
His fate hovered near, unknowable but certain:
it would soon claim his coffered soul,
part life from limb