When we forgive evil we do not excuse it, we do not tolerate it, we do not smother it. We look the evil full in the face, call it what it is, let its horror shock and stun and enrage us, and only then do we forgive it.

He felt like an old sponge steeped in paraffin and left in the sun to dry.

Yes, another April; in a way, in this story, it is always April.

I hadn't known that,' I said. 'I always tend to assume there's an infinite amount of money out there.' 'There might as well be,' Arsibalt said, 'but most of it gets spent on pornography, sugar water, and bombs.

Written By Neal Stephenson

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