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To be a good leader it is necessary to informally—and constantly—assess the psychological well-being of all those around you. —Admonition from MUAD’DIB
Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam was a despicable person and a manipulator who had blackmailed him many years ago, forcing him to impregnate her, per the Sisterhood’s orders. That disgusting act had given him an incurable disease that turned him into this fat mockery of the lean and muscular man he had been.
His lovely wife, Margot, was beside him, the epitome of poise, beauty, and grace. He adored her. She had blond hair, shining eyes, and a face that would have challenged the talent of the greatest sculptor, yet Margot’s mind was her most remarkable attribute, at least to him.
Count Fenring liked being unpredictable. He found it to be an effective strategy, provided he could react more quickly and fluidly than any opponent. Upon his return to the harsh desert world, he chose to do something especially unanticipated.
Secrets, no matter how burdensome, should not be shared with friends. A secret can always turn on you. —LADY JESSICA, private notes
Paul recognized the symbol of the Muadh religion,
Muad dib
Breathing hard, she stood in the middle of the cell and reached an epiphany. She had always been taught that rage was an emotion to suppress because it blocked the logical side of the mind and led inevitably to mistakes.
But the endorphins she’d felt from her exercise, from letting her emotions rise, also lifted her mood, even simulated hope for her. Emotion didn’t get in the way of her control; emotion was a tool. A weapon, if properly used.
