Whoso pulleth Out This Sword of This Stone and Anvil, is Rightwise King Born of All England.

Love is a trick played on us by the forces of evolution. Pleasure is the bait laid down by the same. There is only Power. Power is of the individual mind, but the mind's power is not enough. Power of the body decides everything in the end, and only Might is Right.

"But don't they fight each other for the pasture?" "Dear me, you are a silly," she said. "There are no boundaries among the geese. ... How can you have boundaries if you fly? Those ants of your — and the humans too — would have to stop fighting in the end, if they took to the air."

EVERYTHING NOT FORBIDDEN IS COMPULSORY

Why can't you harness Might so that it works for Right? I know it sounds nonsense, but, I mean, you can't just say there is no such thing. The Might is there, in the bad half of people, and you can't neglect it. You can't cut it out but you might be able to direct it, if you see what I mean, so that it was useful instead of bad.

"You must come and stay with me," said the King. "That is in the stones also. Show you the holy dish some day, and all that. Teach you arithmetic. Nice weather. Don't have daughters unboiled every day. I think dinner will be ready."

Don't ever let anybody teach you to think, Lance: it is the curse of the world.

If people reach perfection they vanish, you know.