Olivia Hofer

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Tosca Lee
“How is one statute against murder or rape or theft different from any other?” I said, though my mind had careened into a hundred different questions. “They are different in that they come from a god who says we are to show honor of him by honoring others. And so as we feed our hungry neighbor and do not steal from him we honor not our neighbor, but the image of the One who fashioned him. You say our god has no face. This is not true. Yaweh’s face is before us in every person we see, as we are made in his image. Living people who require more kindness and adoration than any idol.”
Tosca Lee, The Legend of Sheba: Rise of a Queen

C.S. Lewis
“The nearest thing we have to a defence against [the gods] (but there is no real defence) is to be very wide awake and sober and hard at work, to hear no music, never to look at earth or sky, and (above all) to love no one.”
C.S. Lewis

Kate Grenville
“Man had been given a brain that could think in numbers, and it could not be coincidence that the world was unlocked by that very tool. To understand any aspect of the cosmos was to look on the face of God: not directly, but by a species of triangulation, because to think mathematically was to feel the action of God in oneself.”
Kate Grenville, The Lieutenant

Tosca Lee
“I wonder now if [the gods] take from us that which we love so we must seek them, if only to scavenge for meaning in this existence.”
Tosca Lee, The Legend of Sheba: Rise of a Queen

Kate Grenville
“He sat in the chapel for hours picking his way through fugues. A dozen notes, hardly music. But then those few notes spoke to each other, subject and answer, by repetition, by diminution, by augmentation, even looping backwards on themselves in a course like the retrograde motion of Mars. He listened as if he had as many ears as fingertips, and, like a blind man, could feel textures that were barely there. At the end of two or three pages of music he would hear all the voices twining together in a construction of such dizzying power that the walls of the chapel could barely contain it.”
Kate Grenville, The Lieutenant

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