Blood of Elves (The Witcher, #1)

by Andrzej Sapkowski

“Songs and ballads”—the musician bowed—“never end, dear lady, because poetry is eternal and immortal, it knows no beginning, it knows no end—”

Intolerance and superstition has always been the domain of the more stupid amongst the common folk and, I conjecture, will never be uprooted, for they are as eternal as stupidity itself. There, where mountains tower today, one day there will be seas; there where today seas surge, will one day be deserts. But stupidity will remain stupidity.