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Only the uneducated mind believes that the simpler explanation must be the true one.

Odd got every craftsman he met to make him arrows, but he didn't take much care of them so they used to lie around in people's way.

His was a dictatorship based on democratic forms, within a legal and constitutional framework which he scrupulously observed. For he was building, as his fellow dictators were not, for his own disappearance, trying to lay down a system of government which could survive his time.

Here [the Peace Conference at Lausanne] was a conflict of psychology. The Allies saw the Turks as a vanquished people; the Turks saw themselves as victors. Turkey was the first of the defeated Central Powers to be in a position to negotiate peace. But she was to negotiate at a disadvantage. For the Allies aspired to impose a treaty on her.

It was related of [Grand Vizier Damad Ferid] that, in cabinet making, he called a bunch of elderly pashas out of retirement, stood them in a row, and appointed them according to the personal appearance of each -- the erect and martial pasha as Minister of War, the lean and intellectual as Minister of Justice, the bearded and devout looking as Minister of Pious Foundations, the stout & plebeian as Minister of Commerce

Kemal was no lofty idealist. He had few moral principles, only a dtermination to attain his ends. By cynic though he was, these ends were nonetheless the country's. His was no negative cynicism but that of the realist who seeks practicable solutions.... Turkey under his aegis must not merely be saved from the foreigner; she must be rebuilt on an enduring foundation.

He enjoyed a flirtation with an Austrian girl who fell in love with him ... and seemed to have marital designs on him. To discourage these, he told her he had a fiancee at home. She appeared upset and asked who she was. He answered lightly, "My country." When she looked puzzled, he explained in a heroic vein, "I am a soldier. I am obliged to love my country and to live with her until the end of my life."

But beneath his outward tension, there was an inward confidence. Responsibility acted upon him like a tonic. No longer did he have to sit by and watch, in a growing frenzy of frustration, the errors and muddles of those whom he saw as his inferiors.

'This second body of yours,' she said inally, 'actually knows nothing more than the first. You're really just a pawn.'

It is hard to think of another literature where so much time is spent persuading, bargaining, advising, whetting, cajoling, bullying, being obstinate, and so forth; where the range of human activity is so severely restricted to the elements of competition and the expressions of willfulness or its opposites.

In contrast [to epics], the Icelandic prose tales are primarily about disputes between ordinary people over ordinary matters, such as landownership, insult, inheritance, dowries, hay, and beached whales.

It is sometimes made clear that the abducted man would slowly turn into a troll himself if he stayed with the giantess and ate her food; one tale describes how two ogresses rub their captive with ointment, stretch him, and bellow into his ear, in an attempt to make a troll of him.

That threefold onslaught stunned / a smart verse-smith to dumbness: \ my father's death; my brother's / slaying; myself an outlaw.

Today is the last day for the rich and the comfortable, tomorrow will be our turn. Tomorrow we shall lie on the featherbed, and those we have left alive can have our gloomy attics, if they want.

But it is in my power to decide that you will never become stronger than you are now—yet you are strong enough, as many will find out. You have become famous because of your accomplishments, but from now on you will fall into outlawry and killings. Most of what you do will now turn against you, bringing bad luck and no joy.

They had a second son, who was called Grettir. He said little and was difficult in both what he said and what he did. His father Asmund gave him little affection, but his mother adored him. Grettir Asmundarson was a handsome youth, with a broad, squarish face. He was red-haired and had freckles. He developed slowly as a child.

I was saying that the rascals were causing disturbances under the small galleries. They surrounded certain women, perhaps wantons; in so doing, they caused knots of congestion serious enough to burst into some shops. It became necessary to call for help. The sneak thieves, who appear everywhere, took advantage of the crush, and added to it. Some persons were injured, nearly smothered.

Everything about women should have a gender—their apparel, their coiffures, their footwear—especially the footwear, which should be all the more carefully groomed since in itself it is the least attractive part of the costume. It is very important for moral order, very important for women, that their clothing show contrast with our own! They would lose ... by any similarity.

I have no business with Thorbjorn. I shall not seek them out, but if we should chance to meet, you will hear of courageous exploits, should they be called for. [Translation: Blood will flow].

If it were up to me, there would be no dogs in the city. Imagine! People make a diversion, a pastime, of raising and sheltering an animal who can turn more poisonous [from rabies?] than the most dangerous serpent! This is one of the follies of the human race. I hate dogs and I love people.

What you don't want to hear a Viking say: "I never expected to hear you say such a thing, and if we weren't such good friends I would make you pay bitterly for that."

A man was named Onund. He was the son of Ofeig Clumsy-Foot and the grandson of Ivar Horse-Prick. Onund was the brother of Gudbjorg. She was the daughter of Gudbrand Hump, who was the father of Asta, the mother of King Olaf the Saint.

Whenever gthey find themselves mixed up with a mob, clerks and those who are known as skilled workers indulge in atrocious behavior, and the reason for it is a simple one: the work these young men do is not fatiguing, and it leaves the body with all its energy intact. And so, they corrupt each other, first, by talking about it, and then, the moment they find themselves near women they can touch....

A group of people have gone camping every year for twenty-five years. One member of the group originally suggested it. Then one year there's a fatal accident. One of the group is killed. Is the person who had the idea in the first place to blame? Of course that's rubbish! How far can you take speculations? Coincidences are coincidences. No one can control them.

Icelanders are not particularly hospitable in the sagas, and that reputation persisted for a long time, although things have improved since coffee was discovered....

Never speak ill of anyone in a report. Remember, any lie you are told, even deliberately, is often a more significant fact than a truth told in all sincerity. Don't correct them, and don't try to interpret them either. That's our responsibility.

No matter what; he's poor, and that's revenge enough. Who can speak broader than he that has no house to put his head in? Such may rail against great buildings.

[W]hen Thorgeir learned that his father had been slain he showed no reaction. His face did not redden because no anger ran through his skin..... In fact he showed no response whatsoever to the news -- for his heart was not like the crop of a bird, nor was it so full of blood that it shook with fear. It had been hardened in the Almighty Maker's forge to dare anything.

The universe was not set up to shower you with gifts or cut your legs off. It just rolled along, and what happened to you made no difference to it. However, I just can't stay down in the mouth very long. My inborn nature buoys me up like a cork in the sea. As long as I was alive, I could hope to escape. I was always sure of that.