

“Picture a tall, dark figure, surrounded by cornfields...
NO, YOU CAN'T RIDE A CAT. WHO EVER HEARD OF THE DEATH OF RATS RIDING A CAT? THE DEATH OF RATS WOULD RIDE SOME KIND OF DOG.
Picture more fields, a great horizon-spanning network of fields, rolling in gentle waves...
DON'T ASK ME I DON'T KNOW. SOME KIND OF TERRIER, MAYBE.
...fields of corn, alive, whispering in the breeze...
RIGHT, AND THE DEATH OF FLEAS CAN RIDE IT TOO. THAT WAY YOU KILL TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE.
...awaiting the clockwork of the seasons.
METAPHORICALLY.”
― Reaper Man
NO, YOU CAN'T RIDE A CAT. WHO EVER HEARD OF THE DEATH OF RATS RIDING A CAT? THE DEATH OF RATS WOULD RIDE SOME KIND OF DOG.
Picture more fields, a great horizon-spanning network of fields, rolling in gentle waves...
DON'T ASK ME I DON'T KNOW. SOME KIND OF TERRIER, MAYBE.
...fields of corn, alive, whispering in the breeze...
RIGHT, AND THE DEATH OF FLEAS CAN RIDE IT TOO. THAT WAY YOU KILL TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE.
...awaiting the clockwork of the seasons.
METAPHORICALLY.”
― Reaper Man

“That's why it's always worth having a few philosophers around the place. One minute it's all is truth beauty and is beauty truth, and does a falling tree in the forest make a sound if there's no one there to hear it, and then just when you think they're going to start dribbling one of 'em says, incidentally, putting a thirty-foot parabolic reflector on a high place to shoot the rays of the sun at an enemy's ships would be a very interesting demonstration of optical principles.”
― Small Gods
― Small Gods

“Most species do their own evolving, making it up as they go along, which is the way Nature intended. And this is all very natural and organic and in tune with mysterious cycles of the cosmos, which believes that there's nothing like millions of years of really frustrating trial and error to give a species moral fiber and, in some cases, backbone.”
― Reaper Man
― Reaper Man

“Why not? If enough people believe, you can be god of anything…”
― Small Gods
― Small Gods

“And it came to pass that in that time the Great God Om spake unto Brutha, the Chosen One: ‘Psst!’”
― Small Gods
― Small Gods
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