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“We knew the world would not be the same. A few people laughed, a few people cried. Most people were silent. I remembered the line from the Hindu scripture, the Bhagavad-Gita; Vishnu is trying to persuade the Prince that he should do his duty, and to impress him, takes on his multi-armed form and says, 'Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.' I suppose we all thought that, one way or another.”
―
―
“Oh, I think not,” Varys said, swirling the wine in his cup. “Power is a curious thing, my lord. Perchance you have considered the riddle I posed you that day in the inn?”
“It has crossed my mind a time or two,” Tyrion admitted. “The king, the priest, the rich man—who lives and who dies? Who will the swordsman obey? It’s a riddle without an answer, or rather, too many answers. All depends on the man with the sword.”
“And yet he is no one,” Varys said. “He has neither crown nor gold nor favor of the gods, only a piece of pointed steel.”
“That piece of steel is the power of life and death.”
“Just so… yet if it is the swordsmen who rule us in truth, why do we pretend our kings hold the power? Why should a strong man with a sword ever obey a child king like Joffrey, or a wine-sodden oaf like his father?”
“Because these child kings and drunken oafs can call other strong men, with other swords.”
“Then these other swordsmen have the true power. Or do they?” Varys smiled. “Some say knowledge is power. Some tell us that all power comes from the gods. Others say it derives from law. Yet that day on the steps of Baelor’s Sept, our godly High Septon and the lawful Queen Regent and your ever-so-knowledgeable servant were as powerless as any cobbler or cooper in the crowd. Who truly killed Eddard Stark, do you think? Joffrey, who gave the command? Ser Ilyn Payne, who swung the sword? Or… another?”
Tyrion cocked his head sideways. “Did you mean to answer your damned riddle, or only to make my head ache worse?”
Varys smiled. “Here, then. Power resides where men believe it resides. No more and no less.”
“So power is a mummer’s trick?”
“A shadow on the wall,” Varys murmured, “yet shadows can kill. And ofttimes a very small man can cast a very large shadow.”
Tyrion smiled. “Lord Varys, I am growing strangely fond of you. I may kill you yet, but I think I’d feel sad about it.”
“I will take that as high praise.”
― A Clash of Kings
“It has crossed my mind a time or two,” Tyrion admitted. “The king, the priest, the rich man—who lives and who dies? Who will the swordsman obey? It’s a riddle without an answer, or rather, too many answers. All depends on the man with the sword.”
“And yet he is no one,” Varys said. “He has neither crown nor gold nor favor of the gods, only a piece of pointed steel.”
“That piece of steel is the power of life and death.”
“Just so… yet if it is the swordsmen who rule us in truth, why do we pretend our kings hold the power? Why should a strong man with a sword ever obey a child king like Joffrey, or a wine-sodden oaf like his father?”
“Because these child kings and drunken oafs can call other strong men, with other swords.”
“Then these other swordsmen have the true power. Or do they?” Varys smiled. “Some say knowledge is power. Some tell us that all power comes from the gods. Others say it derives from law. Yet that day on the steps of Baelor’s Sept, our godly High Septon and the lawful Queen Regent and your ever-so-knowledgeable servant were as powerless as any cobbler or cooper in the crowd. Who truly killed Eddard Stark, do you think? Joffrey, who gave the command? Ser Ilyn Payne, who swung the sword? Or… another?”
Tyrion cocked his head sideways. “Did you mean to answer your damned riddle, or only to make my head ache worse?”
Varys smiled. “Here, then. Power resides where men believe it resides. No more and no less.”
“So power is a mummer’s trick?”
“A shadow on the wall,” Varys murmured, “yet shadows can kill. And ofttimes a very small man can cast a very large shadow.”
Tyrion smiled. “Lord Varys, I am growing strangely fond of you. I may kill you yet, but I think I’d feel sad about it.”
“I will take that as high praise.”
― A Clash of Kings
“ويقررون أن هذا التشاكل بين القوتين ينجرّ بعوام البشر وهم السواد الأعظم إلى نقطة أن يلتبس عليهم الفرق بين الإله المعبود بحق وبين المستبد المطاع بالقهر، فيختلطان في مضيق أذهانهم من حيث التشابه في استحقاق مزيد التعظيم، والرفعة عن السؤال وعدم المؤاخذة على الأفعال، بناء عليه لا يرون لأنفسهم حقاً في مراقبة المستبد لانتفاء النسبة بين عظمته ودنائتهم، وبعبارة أخرى يجد العوام معبودهم وجبّارهم مشتركين في كثير من الحالات والأسماء والصفات، وهم هم، ليس من شأنهم أن يفرقوا مثلاً بين (الفعّال المطلق) والحاكم بأمره، وبين (لا يسأل عما يفعل) وغير مسؤول، وبين (المنعم) وولي النعم، وبين (جل شأنه) وجليل الشأن. بناء عليه يعظمون الجبابرة تعظيمهم لله، ويزيدون تعظيمهم على التعظيم لله لأنه حليم كريم ولأن عذابه آجل غائب، وأما انتقام الجبار فعاجل حاضر.”
― طبائع الاستبداد ومصارع الاستعباد
― طبائع الاستبداد ومصارع الاستعباد
“العوام هم قوَّة المستبد و قوته , بهم عليهم يصول و يطول , يأسرهم , فيتهللون لشوكته , يغصب أموالهم , فيحمدونه على إبقائه حياتهم , و يهينهم فيثنون على رفعته , و يغري بعضهم على بعض , فيفتخرون بساسته , و اذا أسرف في أموالهم , يقولون كريما , و اذا قتل منهم و لم يمثل , يعتبرونه رحيما , و يسوقهم إلى خطر الموت , فيطيعونه حذر التوبيخ , و إن نقم عليه منهم بعض الأباة قاتلهم كأنهم بغاة .”
― طبائع الاستبداد ومصارع الاستعباد
― طبائع الاستبداد ومصارع الاستعباد
“أوقن في قرارة نفسي أنني ابن موت. واحد من بشر قصار العمر يحيون في العالم الثالث المكروب، في الجنوب المتهالك، حيث القاعدة هي الشقاء و الموت المبكر، أما الاستثناء فأن يَسْعَد بعض الناس و يُعمرون”
― لحظات غرق جزيرة الحوت
― لحظات غرق جزيرة الحوت
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