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“You’re really going to the river, then?” “I said I would.” “What we say and what we do are . . .” “Well, I do what I say. Which is why I don’t say much.”
This pestilence cooked away pretense and showed
people’s souls, as surely as it eventually showed their
b...
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“I don’t know,” he said. “But don’t you see? This is the one thing I can do as well as anyone else. I can’t plow. I can’t build. But I can suffer. God wants suffering now.”
A knight with a face somewhere between a man’s and a lion’s had entered the square from the direction of the river. His armor was bloody, as was the axe he carried head down in his left hand. He was riding a grayish horse with human mouths where its eyes should be and hands instead of hooves.
Thomas knew somehow that what he was seeing was not precisely true, but a translation; he had no way to understand what he was seeing, so his mind painted its own pictures.
This brought me back into the book after falling off for a while and reading a few pages a week. The idea that Angels and Demons can be comprehended by the human mind was such a nice detail. It hooked me to continue.
