More Than One Philosopher Has Claimed That

You Always Fashioned Yourself As The Empire's Harshest Fist, Didn't You, Korbolo Dom? As If Cruelty's A Virtue.

Evil Is Nothing But A Word, An Objectification Where No Objectification Is Necessary. Cast Aside This Notion Of Some External Agency As The Source Of Inconceivable Inhumanity - The Sad Truth Is Our Possession Of An Innate Proclivity Towards Indifference, Towards Deliberate Denial Of Mercy, Towards Disengaging All That Is Moral Within Us. But If That Is Too Dire , Let's Call It Evil. And Paint It With Fire And Venom.

None Could Guess My Confusion, My Host Of Deluded Illusions And Elusive Delusions! A Mantle Of Marble Hiding A Crumbling Core Of Sandstone. See How They Stare At Me, Wondering, All Wondering, At My Secret Wellspring Of Wisdom...' Let's Kill Him,' Crokus Muttered, 'if Only To Put Him Out Of Our Misery.

If All We Seek Is An Escape, What Does That Say About The World We Live In? That Village, That City, That Life? We Are Desperate With Our Dreams. What - Oh, What - Does That Say?

Soldiers Are Issued Armour For Their Flesh And Bones, But They Must Fashion Their Own For Their Souls. Piece By Piece.