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He looked like a man who had spent half a century falling down a mountain.
“A time comes when the stakes are of such enormity that moral objections become themselves immoral.”
Balthazar threw up his hands. “You bargain with one demon and that’s all anyone talks about!”
He might know it was all flimflam, but to believe a lie was as comforting for the believer as to know the truth. For an instant he could not but wonder—is it truly better to be a woebegone cynic than an ecstatic dupe?
The Saviour had said one could not buy one’s way into heaven, but most agreed that was just a negotiating tactic on her part.
Lying was a sin, apparently, unless you did it outrageously and persistently enough, in which case it qualified as scripture.
“Those in power prefer to remain sunken in ignorance.”
Perhaps there had never been any lines. Perhaps the whole idea of lines was a consolatory fairy tale it had suited him to believe.
It’s amazing how far you can go, if all you do is act like you’re meant to be there—
“You need to stop clinging to the notion that there’s only one right path. You’ll waste half your time panicking you’re not on it, and the rest backtracking to find it.
