“He studied what he'd long avoided, and there was now no detail obscured, no truth denied. Here he stood in the cold light of eternity, and by some magic greater than chromaturgy, all that was wretched and self-deprecatory and judgmental and hating fell away like a serpent's scale from his eye.
He had seen through Orholam's mask of being an old prophet, and beheld something ineffably beguiling beneath the old prophet's age spots and deep wrinkles and snaggle teeth.
And now he saw something of that same beauty in himself, an image of the divine.
Here was Dazen Guile through the eyes of charity.
And as unwilling tears flooded his eyes, he realized that —wonder of wonders!—he was glorious.”
―
Brent Weeks,
The Burning White