“PROCTOR, his mind wild, breathless: I say--I say--God is dead!”
“PROCTOR--he knows it is insane: No, it is not the same! What others say and what i sign to is not the same!”
“Nietzsche says God is dead. Probably now God says Nietzsche is dead! The one that will die is religion, not the God! God will always live!”
“I would not say it to a living soul, of course, but this is dead paper and a great relief to my mind.”
“Material possessions aren't important to me," I say breathlessly. "All that matters to me is yoga.”
“Fine," he says, his words coming out breathless. "I'll save your precious sword-master, McKenzie. But I will never, ever give you back to him.”