“War is always more complex. Economics, history, religion all have a role, but not for the ones dodging the bullets. They just get blown around like seeds in the wind until the city folk with calculators and Swiss bank accounts stop talking rot from a bunker under a mountain.”

“I'm a virgin, Ariel," I whispered conspiratorially. "Sealed up like a Swiss bank account.”

“The war is in the mountains,” he said. “For as long as I can remember, they have killed us in the cities with decrees, not with bullets.”

“As our society gets more complex and our people get more complacent, the role of the jester is more vital than ever before. Please stop sitting around. We need you to make a ruckus.”

“I speak this way because I know how perilous speech can be.... A saber might be stopped by a shield. A bullet might be dodged by a stroke of luck. But you can't dodge a word. If one is flung at you it will hit its mark unerringly. No Garritt there's nothing in the world more dangerous than talk.”

“How strange it is that the house of these hedonic stalwarts is filled with all the luxuries of life, right from plasma televisions to Swiss bank cheque books. So how will they notice the tonnes of food grains rotting in the northern belt?”