Etykiety
Like eagles
Small Gods, Terry Pratchett
Om rubed his head. This wasn't god-like thinking. It seemed simpler when you were up here. It was all a game. You forgot that it wasn't a game down there. People died. Bits got chopped off. We're like eagles up here, he thought. Sometimes we show tortoise how to fly. Then we let go.
Bogowie
Jingo, Terry Pratchett
Night poured over the desert. It came suddenly, in purple. In the clear air, the stars drilled out of the sky, reminding any thoughtful watcher that it is in the deserts and high places that religions are generated. When men see nothing but bottomless infinity over their heads the have always had a driving and desperate urge to find someone to put in the way.
Gods need someone to pray too
Small Gods, Terry Pratchett
Gods have no one to pray to.Om really wished that this was not the case.
But everyone need someone.
You have to fight for one
Small Gods, Terry Pratchett
'Is one less than fifty-one?' said P'Tang-P'Tang.'It's the same,' said Om, firmly. He eyed the back of the Tsortean God's head.
'But you have thousands,' said the Newt God. 'You fight for thousands.'
Om rubbed his forehead. I spent too long down there, he thought. I can't stop thinking at ground level.
'I think,' he said, 'I think, if you want thousands, you have to fight for one.' He tapped the Solar God on the shoulder. 'Hey, sunshine?'
When the God looked around, Om broke the cornucopia over his head.
Believe
Carpe Jugulum, Terry Pratchett
She turned to face him, suddenly alive. 'It'd be as well for you if I didn't believe,' she said,prodding him with a sharp finger. 'This Om . . . anyone seen him?'
'It is said three thousand people witnessed his manifestation at the Great Temple when he made the Covenant with the prophet Brutha and saved him from death by torture on the iron turtle-'
'But I bet that now they're arguing about what they actually saw, eh?'
'Well, indeed, yes, there are many opinions-'
'Right. Right. That's people for you. Now if I'd seen him, really there, really alive, it'd be in me like a fever. If I thought there was some god who really did care two hoots about people, who watched 'em like a father and cared for 'em like a mother . . . well, you wouldn't catch me sayin' things like "There are two sides to every question," and "We must respect other people's beliefs." You wouldn't find me just being gen'rally nice in the hope that it'd all turn out right in the end, not if that flame was burning in me like an unforgivin' sword. And I did say burnin', Mister Oats, 'cos that's what it'd be. You say that you people don't burn folk and sacrifice people any more, but that's what true faith would mean, y'see? Sacrificin' your own life, one day at a time, to the flame, declarin' the truth of it, workin' for it, breathin' the soul of it. That's religion. Anything else is just . . . is just bein' nice. And a way of keepin' in touch with the neighbours.'
Kategorie: Esme Weatherwax, wiara, wiedźmy,
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