it all was somehow grander, more in the old spirit than the actual world. The world of German hegemony.

is complete, Robert. By contemplating it, we gain more wu ourselves. We experience the tranquillity associated not with art but with holy things.

It will end, Childan thought. Someday. The very idea of place. Not governed and governing, but people.

“What profit it a man if he gain the whole world but in this enterprise lose his soul?”’ The radio paused, Frink, tying his tie, also paused.

Perhaps if you know you are insane then you are not insane. Or you are becoming sane, finally. Waking up.

he should have that cold but somehow enthusiastic

ascetic.

gnomish quality about everything. A smaller-than-life quality, with a dash of the droll. What is this five-thousand-year-old book? The Mickey Mouse watch, Mr Tagomi himself, the fragile cup in Mr Tagomi’s hand … and, on the wall facing Mr Baynes, an enormous buffalo head, ugly and menacing.

It is too bad, Frink thought. But nevertheless it’s the truth. It’s a fact. I can’t get faith or enthusiasm by willing it. Deciding to.