Black Easter

by James Blish

Baines whistled in admiration. “You’re the first man I’ve ever met who’s worked out a system to make scruples pay.

I myself have the utmost respect for scientific method, but I know that it doesn’t offer me the kind of knowledge I’m looking for—which is also knowledge about the makeup of the universe and how it is run, but not a kind that any exact science can provide me with, because the sciences don’t accept that some of the forces of nature are Persons. Well, but some of them are. And without dealing with those Persons I shall never know any of the things I want to know.

Never had Baines heard a voice like that before. It seemed to speak in syllables of burning ashes.

A little hatred never hurts the Art, and studied insult is valuable in dealing with demons—there are only a few who can be flattered to any profit, and the man who can be flattered isn’t a man at all, he’s a dog.