July 19, 2006
Planchard picked up the lantern. “I can tell you nothing more, my lord, for I have heard nothing that tells me the Grail is at Astarac, but I do know one thing and I know it as surely as I know that my bones wil soon rest with the brethren in this ossuary. The search for the Grail, my lord, drives men mad. It dazzles them, confuses them, and leaves them whimpering. It is a dangerous thing, my lord, and best left to the troubadours. Let them sing about it and make their poems about it, but for the love of God do not risk your soul by seeking it.”
I came across this passage from Bernard Cornwell's Heretic (aye, the third book) yesterday morning, nary a day after I'd read something somebody else had written about maladies. Now why would it seem that in the text above, the word “Grail” could very well be replaced by… something else… and all the rest would be just as true? And just as with the Grail quest, those other quests — and everything one finds along the way — are, in a way, their own great reward. However, unlike the Grail quest, there are times when one can actually judge and decide to leave off those other quests, and be glad, be very glad, for everything — and everyone — one has stumbled across along the way.
Posted by roam at July 19, 2006 10:28 AM