“The brake and gas were rigged to suit a man of his stature, and he handled them like Horowitz sailing through a storm of Liszt.”

“I found the gas," he said. "Now all's I need to do is find the brake.”

“But 'Thou mayest!'! Why, that makes a man great, that gives him stature with the gods, for in his weakness and his filth and his murder of his brother he has still the great choice. He can choose his course and fight it through and win”

“It’s…” She couldn’t finish.“Don’t try, Miss Redmond,” he agreed, shading his eyes. “There are honestly no suitable words, so we shall not fault you for failing to find them. Nothing makes a man feel more like God than sailing a ship over the sea with no land in sight. And nothing makes a man feel less like a God than clinging to a shred of ship exploded by lightning in a storm.”

“How does the Authority usually handle storms like this?” “Not well.”

“My life motto: My brakes are broke, but luckily my gas pedal works just fine.
”