Peter H. Fogtdal

“What was it Danilov told me before I left? Something about how one day I would stand at a crossroads where I could choose the Light, which illuminated the sky with its warmth and golden glow - or the Darkness, which at first seemed soothing and inviting, but which would consume me in its flames. But do I have to wait for that crossroads? Isn't it present at every moment of my life?”

“I want to take away your sunshine, Lukas. Not because I'm evil but because the sun can't exist without shadows. I want to examine the lie that keeps you afloat--the idea that it's wonderful to be Lukas, that it's splendid to be the tsar's favorite dwarf, that there's nothing better to do than bring crackers to Menshikov like some kind of dog. When does it hurt the most, Lukas? That's what I'd like to know. What hurts you more than anything else? Is it when the tsar mocks you? Or is it when he can't remember your name? Is it when he forgets all about your for a year or two? When are you going to curse Peter Alexeyevich to Hell, Lukas? That's what I'd like to know. I want to get behind that smile of yours, and your clown's heart. And then I'll console you when you fall apart--I'll console you when you realize that you are infinitely unloved. At that moment I'll be at your side, but no before. Not a moment before.”

“In my carpet bag are the mushrooms that I gathered in the woods. With two fingers I pick up a piece and look at it. Then I take a bite and wait for my body to react. Now I'm in a better mood. In a short time I'll be dead. Or alive. I'm not always sure that there's any difference.”

“I'm going to die. And as if that weren't bad enough, I'm going to die inside a cake.”