Dune Messiah (Dune, #2)

by Frank Herbert

You are here because you dared to say that Paul Atreides lost something essential to his humanity before he could become Muad’Dib.

If I had any doubts about your death sentence, you have dispelled them. A: I can only die once.

Your Jihad only took twelve years, but what a lesson it taught. Now, the Empire understands the sham of Muad’Dib’s marriage to the Princess Irulan!

Timeskip?

But there were, after all, a man born Paul Atreides and a woman born Alia.

To understand them, it must be seen that their catastrophe was the catastrophe of all mankind.

There can be only one answer, that completely accurate and total prediction is lethal.

That was the fourth person present—the potential member of the conspiracy—Princess Irulan, wife

“The future is a thing to be shaped,” Scytale said. “Hold that thought, Princess.”

The body—that’s the flesh of a renowned swordmaster known as Duncan Idaho.

Zombie Duncan???

“Follow me well, Reverend Mother,” Scytale warned, using a voice mode which said: You are not a sex object, have never been a sex object, cannot be a sex object.

They’re trained to believe, not to know. Belief can be manipulated. Only knowledge is dangerous.”

In the stillsuit, he abandoned security and put on the old skills of violence.

What interested Chani were facts which bore on the position of her man—his

Who is she outside of Paul?

His prophetic visions had been eavesdropping on eternity for such a long while, catching snatches of foreign tongues, listening to stones and to flesh not his own. Since the day of his first encounter with terrible purpose, he had peered at the future, hoping to find peace.

“So it is said,” Farok agreed. “Are you truly a man, then? I’ve heard stories about Face Dancers that . . .” He shrugged. “We are Jadacha hermaphrodites,” Scytale said, “either sex at will. For the present, I am a man.” Farok pursed his lips in thought, then: “May I call for refreshments? Do you desire water? Iced fruit?”

The constitution is social power mobilized and it has no conscience. It can crush the highest and the lowest, removing all dignity and individuality. It has an unstable balance point and no limitations. I, however, have limitations. In my desire to provide an ultimate protection for my people, I forbid a constitution.

Once more the drama begins. —THE EMPEROR PAUL MUAD’DIB ON HIS ASCENSION TO THE LION THRONE

Lol

“Send me away, Sire,” Hayt said, and it was Duncan Idaho’s voice full of concern for “the young master.” Paul felt trapped by that voice. He couldn’t send that voice away, even when it came from a ghola. “You will stay,” he said, “and we’ll both exercise caution.”

the brother-sister crossbreeding must be explored. (Irulan almost broke at receiving this command.)

?????

He took his time reading the reactions on her face and body: the flush of her exertions coloring her skin, the wet fullness of her lips. There was a disquieting femaleness about her that he had never considered in his sister.

What game of thrones bs is this

and his own undeniable male reaction to his own sister.

Bro

There’s another emperor I want you to note in passing—a Hitler. He killed more than six million. Pretty good for those days.”

o.o

“Into the darkness,” Paul said. “We’ll be a hundred generations recovering from Muad’Dib’s Jihad. I find it hard to imagine that anyone will ever surpass this.” A barking laugh erupted from his throat. “What amuses Muad’Dib?” Stilgar asked. “I am not amused. I merely had a sudden vision of the Emperor Hitler saying something similar. No doubt he did.”

I heard reports of some disturbing remarks.” “Such as?” Paul asked. “Is this the way our taxes are spent? I’m told the Ambassador himself asked that question.”

The party’s over, Stil.” “I understand, m’Lord.” “I’m sure you do,” Paul said.

How dare he use my given name? She felt anger rise and go down beneath the memory of the way he’d spoken: softly throbbing undertones, casual male confidence.

Is alia's arc just that she's horny?? Shes like 16

“And you know, as well, that such a gift wasn’t necessary. Your brother already was destroying himself quite adequately.”

“I told him that to endure oneself may be the hardest task in the universe.”

Disengage . . . disengage . . . disengage

Herbert loves his repetition

Once . . . long ago, he’d thought of himself as an inventor of government. But the invention had fallen into old patterns. It was like some hideous contrivance with plastic memory. Shape it any way you wanted, but relax for a moment, and it snapped into the ancient forms.

For a moment, he became pure Duncan Idaho. “I give you what comfort I can,” he said.

The flesh surrenders itself, he thought. Eternity takes back its own. Our bodies stirred these waters briefly, danced with a certain intoxication before the love of life and self, dealt with a few strange ideas, then submitted to the instruments of Time. What can we say of this? I occurred. I am not . . . yet, I occurred.

For an instant, he felt mud clinging to the shoes of his childhood. Then he was back in the sand, in the dust-clotted, wind-muffled darkness with the Future hanging over him, taunting.

“What’s law? Control? Law filters chaos and what drips through? Serenity? Law—our highest ideal and our basest nature. Don’t look too closely at the law. Do, and you’ll find the rationalized interpretations, the legal casuistry, the precedents of convenience. You’ll find the serenity, which is just another word for death.”

“You’re preparing to disobey my brother,” she said. “I can read it in you. I only hope it doesn’t destroy you both.”

“What . . . do you see with such eyes?” she whispered. “What other eyes see,” he said.

The young master needed him.

“I need you, Duncan,” she sobbed. “Love me!” “I do,” he whispered. She lifted her head, peered at the moon-frosted outline of his face. “I know, Duncan. Love knows love.”