Scythe Goddard Quotes

We're exploring the possibility of building a wall to stem the exodus." "Don't be ridiculous," Goddard said. "Only idiots build walls.

There’s a lot written about killers from the mortal age –monsters like Jack the Ripper, or Charlie Manson, or Cyber Sally –and the only difference between them and Goddard is that people let Goddard get away with it. The mortals knew how wrong it was, but somehow we’ve forgotten.

Now Goddard paces, whipping his fury into a caustic meringue.

There's a very old expression," Scythe Goddard told him. "'To be painless is to be gainless.

We’re exploring the possibility of building a wall to stem the exodus.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Goddard said. “Only idiots build walls.

We could have been called reapers," Goddard said, "but our founders saw fit to call us scythes - because we are the weapons in mankind's immortal hand. You are a fine weapon, Rowan, sharp, and precise. And when you strike, you are glorious to behold.

He didn’t just break her neck,” Scythe Goddard pointed out. “He unflinchingly snapped her spine! Everyone heard it. I’m sure it woke up the scythes sleeping in the back row!” “Classic!” said Scythe Chomsky, guzzling his champagne down, not waiting for the toast.

And so it gave Ayn the opportunity to observe. To let it play out, and allow Goddard a few moments of fear and shock, before she gleaned the intruder. Because as Constantine suggested, she could mold Goddard’s actions—but only when he was reeling, and his fury was whipped into stiff but malleable peaks.

We make mistakes. Believe me, if Goddard is installed as High Blade, half of the scythes who put him there will regret it in the morning, but by then it will be too late!

Fear, Ayn. Fear is the beloved father of respect.

Rightmindness is overrated, Goddard said. I'd rather have a mind that's clear than a mind that's right.

Suffice it to say that Goddard is the most recent in a long line of scythes who look up into the night sky and see not the stars, but the darkness between them.

The terror of the unknown was just as awful, and just as real, regardless of whether or not there was truly something to fear. -Scythe Goddard

We are angels of death," said Scythe Goddard. "It is only fitting that we swoop in from the heavens.

We are angels of death,” said Scythe Goddard. “It is only fitting that we swoop in from the heavens.

And you, Rowan, will complete your training in the capable hands of Honorable Scythe Goddard.

Scythe Goddard decided it was a day for samurai swords, although Chomsky refused to part with his flamethrower.

It was no surprise to Rowan that it was painted royal blue and studded with glistening stars. Everything in Scythe Goddard's life was a testament to his ego.

Gleaning is performed, not administered," Scythe Goddard told him. "It is a willful action. To slip into passivity and allow poison to do all the work is an embarrassment to who and what we are.

Then, trying not to trip over the robe, Rowan strode away from the all-consuming inferno that would leave nothing behind of Scythe Goddard and his disciples but bones too charred to ever be revived.

Of course, the bad scythes weren't all in the past. But instead of "bad" they were now called "innovative" and "forward-thinking." Like the innovative bloodbaths of Scythe Goddard and his killer cronies.

Rowan’s apprenticeship was, to say the least, inconsistent—beginning with stoic and wise Scythe Faraday, and ending with the brutality of Scythe Goddard. If there was one thing that Scythe Faraday had taught him, it was to live by the convictions of his heart, no matter what the consequences. And if there was one thing Scythe Goddard had taught him, it was to have no heart, taking life without regrets. The two philosophies forever warred in Rowan’s mind, rending him in two. But silently.

Esme shrugged, and stayed tight-lipped. It was only after Rowan dealt the next hand that she said, “Actually, Scythe Goddard didn’t grant me immunity. He can glean me any time he wants, but he doesn’t.” Then she smiled. “That makes me even more special, don’t you think?

Goddard clapped his hands together, truly tickled. "I have so missed these conversations with you!" "You mean the ones where you gloat, and I'm tied up?" "You see? The way you get to the heart of the matter is always so refreshing. So entertaining. I'd keep you as a house pet, if I didn't fear you'd somehow escape and burn me to a crisp in my sleep." "I would, and I would," Rowan told him. "I have no doubt.

Sharp robes,” commented the executive, still successfully capping his fear. “Thank you,” said Scythe Goddard. “I can see you are a man of taste. My compliments to your decorator.” “That would be my wife,” he said, then inwardly grimaced to have brought her, in any way, to the attention of the life-takers.

He had finally gotten the hang of his journal, writing things that bordered on thoughtful—but it was still just a sham. He never wrote what he truly felt, for he knew that his “private” journal was not private at all, and that Scythe Goddard read every last word. So he wrote only things that Goddard would want to read.

If the bar can’t be lowered,” Goddard said slowly, “then the floor must be raised.

What person in their right mind would want to feel that kind of pain?” “Rightmindedness is overrated,” Goddard said. “I’d rather have a mind that’s clear than one that’s ‘right.’ 

You see, there are some who seek celebrity to change the world, and others who seek it to ensnare the world. Goddard is of the second kind.

You might be a celebrity scythe,” Citra pointed out, “but even at your worst, you were nothing like Goddard.

Rowan sat down again and pulled his chair close enough to Volta to whisper. “I’ll tell you what I think,” Rowan said. “Goddard isn’t a scythe. He’s a killer.

Although Goddard never turned to look, Rowan had the distinct feeling that he knew Rowan was watching him.

Right mindedness is overrated," Goddard said. "I'd rather have a mind that's clear than one that's 'right.

Don’t be ridiculous,” Goddard said. “Only idiots build walls.

I am your completion! Intoned Goddard. I am your deliverance! I am your portal to the mysteries beyond this life!

Rightmindedness is overrated,” Goddard said. “I’d rather have a mind that’s clear than one that’s ‘right.

Goddard is as corrosive as acid hurled in the eye.

It’s him!” “He’s so handsome!” “He’s so scary!” “He’s so well-groomed!” Goddard took a moment to turn to the crowd and sweep his hand in a royal wave.

Rowan looked at the man’s outstretched hand, but even now Goddard’s words came back to him. The eagle or the mouse? No, Rowan would not scurry away and hide. There was still more that had to be done.

Precisely,” agreed Goddard. “They’ve made a mockery of mortal age faith. Religion is a cherished part of history, and they’ve turned it into a travesty.” “Glean them all!” said Chomsky, powering up his weapon.

The thing about Goddard was that he always came close enough to making sense that it was demoralizing. He could twist your own thoughts until they were no longer yours, but his. That's what made him so dangerous.

I do not wish to be the harbinger of doom," he said, mournfully, "but this is a secret ballot. I'm sure there'll be quite a few who support Scythe Curie to her face, but will vote for Goddard when no one is looking.

No, I wasn’t, thank goodness,” Scythe Curie said. “I never took life for sport. You see, there are some who seek celebrity to change the world, and others who seek it to ensnare the world. Goddard is of the second kind.

Maybe you should show your moves on the dance floor, Your Excellency,” said Goddard. “Then my guests could laugh at you, just the way you made the entire Scythedom laugh at me in conclave. Did you think I forgot about that?

Instead, Rowan’s blade hit its true mark, and ran Scythe Goddard through, all the way to the hilt. Rowan was close to Goddard now. Inches from his face, looking into his wide, shocked eyes. “I am what you made me,” he told Goddard. “And you’re right: I enjoyed that. I enjoyed that more than anything I’ve ever done in my life.” Then with his free hand, Rowan reached down and yanked the ring off Goddard’s finger. “You don’t deserve to wear this. You never did.

Now you will go to your office and resign your position, effective immediately.” This time Easley did say, “Excuse me?” “Someone else can do your job—I’m sure there are others itching for the opportunity.” Easley rose, his legs still a bit shaky. “But… but why? Can’t you just let me and my family leave? We won’t bother you. We’ll take nothing but the clothes on our backs. You’ll never see us again.” “But alas, I can’t let you leave,” said Scythe Goddard. “I need a new pool boy.

Citra shook her head. “No! We were pledged to Scythe Faraday and no one else! He died to free us, so we should be freed!” “I’m afraid I’ve already given my blessing, so the matter is settled.” Then he turned to each of them in turn. “You, Citra, will now be the apprentice of Honorable Scythe Curie.…” Rowan closed his eyes. He knew what was coming next, even before Xenocrates said the words. “And you, Rowan, will complete your training in the capable hands of Honorable Scythe Goddard.

Once Xenocrates was gone, Goddard called out to the crowd, “Anyone who uploads pictures of High Blade Xenocrates in his underwear will be gleaned immediately!” And everyone laughed… then stopped when they realized he was not joking in the least.

Once Xenocrates was gone, Goddard called out to the crowd, “Anyone who uploads pictures of High Blade Xenocrates in his underwear will be gleaned immediately!” And everyone laughed . . . then stopped when they realized he was not joking in the least.

Xenocrates took a deep breath and let it out. “Fortune is smiling. The girl will cease to be an issue within a week. I’m sure of it.” Another diver splashed them. Xenocrates put up his hands to shield himself from it, but Goddard didn’t flinch in the least.

Who do you think did it?” Rowan asked. “Who had the most to gain by getting Faraday out of the picture?” Neither of them needed to say it out loud. They both knew the answer. Rowan knew that Goddard was capable of unthinkable things, but would he kill another scythe?

What are we, Rowan? What the hell are we? It can’t be what we’re supposed to be.” “It’s not. It never was. Goddard isn’t a scythe. He may have the ring, he may have license to glean, but he’s not a scythe. He’s a killer, and he has to be stopped. We can find a way to stop him, both of us!

We could have been called reapers,” Goddard said, “but our founders saw fit to call us scythes—because we are the weapons in mankind’s immortal hand. You are a fine weapon, Rowan, sharp, and precise. And when you strike, you are glorious to behold.” “Stop it! That’s not true!” “You know it is. You were born for this, Rowan. Don’t throw it away.

Then, as soon as Rowan let Goddard go, Goddard got up, strode to a cabinet, pulled out a pistol, and shoved it into Rowan's ribs. 'New Rules,' he said, then pulled the trigger, blasting a bullet that shredded through Rowan's heart and shattered a lamp across the room. Darkness began to overtake him, but before it did, he let loose a single laugh. 'Cheater,' he said, and died

People are saying that Scythe Faraday was killed by another scythe.” Goddard stopped in his tracks, and slowly turned back to Rowan. “Is that what people are saying?” Rowan took a deep breath and shrugged, trying to make it seem like it was nothing, trying to backpedal. But it was too late for that. “It’s just a rumor.” “And you think I might somehow be involved?” “Are you?” asked Rowan.

Don’t do this,” begged the High Blade. Goddard’s response was to bring the blade even closer to Esme’s unsuspecting neck. Now even Volta was sweating. No one had ever been gleaned at one of Goddard’s parties, but there was always a first time. Volta knew this was a battle of wills, and the only thing that kept him from intervening, and ripping that dagger away from Goddard, was knowing who would blink first.

The young scythe reached into one of the many secret pockets of his yellow robe and pulled out a small dagger, placing the hilt in Goddard’s hand. Goddard closed his fingers around it, and ever so gently, ever so inconspicuously, brought the edge of the dagger just an inch from Esme’s neck. The girl didn’t see it. She didn’t know it was there at all. But Xenocrates did. He froze in place, eyes wide, jaw slightly ajar.

You know what would be even worse?” said Volta. “If the daughter that no one knew about got herself gleaned.” Rowan ran a dozen things through this new lens. It all made sense now. The way Esme was spared at the food court, the way she was treated—what was it Goddard had said? That she was the most important person he’d meet that day? The key to the future? “But she won’t get gleaned,” Rowan said. “Not as long as Xenocrates does whatever Goddard says. Like jump in the deep end of a pool.” Volta nodded slowly. “Among other things.

I nominated Curie, because I thought it would impress Scythe Anastasia.” “And why would you want to impress her?” Goddard asked. Trick question, thought Morrison. And he decided it was better to be nailed by the truth than to be caught in a lie. “I had the feeling that she was going places – and so I figured if I impressed her—” “You might get pulled along in her wake?” “Yes, something like that.” Goddard nodded, accepting the explanation. “Well, she did go somewhere. Although to be more precise, I suspect she went multiple places before she was fully digested.

that very moment but Scythe Brahms. “What’s going on?” Brahms asked. “Is everything all right?” Goddard sighed. “Yes. Everything’s fine.” He could have left it at that. But he didn’t. “It just so happens that Ayn chose this moment for a grand romantic gesture.” “Really?” Brahms smirked with smug amusement. “She should have waited until you became High Blade. Power is quite the aphrodisiac.” Now disgust was piled upon humiliation. Goddard gave her one last glance, laden with judgment, and perhaps even pity. “If you wanted to partake of this body,” he said, “you should have done it when you had the chance.

And as if this weren’t humiliating enough, who should appear at the door at that very moment but Scythe Brahms. “What’s going on?” Brahms asked. “Is everything all right?” Goddard sighed. “Yes. Everything’s fine.” He could have left it at that. But he didn’t. “It just so happens that Ayn chose this moment for a grand romantic gesture.” “Really?” Brahms smirked with smug amusement. “She should have waited until you became High Blade. Power is quite the aphrodisiac.” Now disgust was piled upon humiliation. Goddard gave her one last glance, laden with judgment, and perhaps even pity. “If you wanted to partake of this body,” he said, “you should have done it when you had the chance.

Nearly a hundred Tonists reside behind those walls,” Goddard announced. “Our goal is to glean them all.” Scythe Rand grinned. Scythe Chomsky checked the settings on his weapon. Only Scythe Volta seemed to have reservations. “All of them?” Goddard shrugged as if it were nothing. As if all those lives meant nothing. “Obliteration is our hallmark,” he said. “We don’t always succeed, but we try.” “But this… this breaks the second commandment. It clearly shows bias.” “Come now, Alessandro,” Goddard said in his most patronizing tone. “Bias against whom? Tonists are not a registered cultural group.” “Couldn’t they be considered a religion?” Rowan offered. “You gotta be kidding,” laughed Scythe Rand. “They’re a joke!” “Precisely,” agreed Goddard. “They’ve made a mockery of mortal age faith. Religion is a cherished part of history, and they’ve turned it into a travesty.

On the evening before the inquest, Scythe Rand decided it was time to make her move. It was truly now or never – and what better night for her and Goddard’s relationship to rise to the next level than the night before the world would change – because after tomorrow, regardless of the outcome, nothing would be the same. She was not a woman given over to emotions, but she found her heart and mind racing as she approached Goddard’s door that night. She turned the knob. It was not locked. She pushed it open quietly without knocking. The room was dark, lit only by the lights of the city sifting in through the trees outside. “Robert?” she whispered, then took a step closer. “Robert?” she whispered again. He did not stir. He was either asleep, or feigning, waiting to see what she would do. Breathing shallowly and sharply, as if she were treading ice water, she moved toward his bed – but before she got there, he reached over and turned on a light. “Ayn? What do you think you’re doing?” Suddenly, she felt flushed, and ten years younger; a stupid schoolgirl instead of an accomplished scythe.

I … I thought you’d need … that is, I thought you might want … companionship tonight.” There was no hiding her vulnerability now. Her heart was open to him. He could either take it or insert a blade. He looked at her and hesitated, but only for a moment. “Good God, Ayn, close your robe.” She did. And tied it so tightly, it felt like a Victorian corset, crushing the air out of her. “I’m sorry – I thought—” “I know what you thought. I know what you’ve been thinking since the moment I was revived.” “But you said you felt an attraction…” “No,” Goddard corrected, “I said this body feels an attraction. But I am not ruled by biology!” Ayn fought back every last emotion threatening to overtake her. She just shut them down cold. It was either that, or fall apart in front of him. She would rather self-glean than do that. “Guess I misunderstood. You’re not always easy to read, Robert.” “Even if I did desire that sort of relationship with you, we could never have one. It is clearly forbidden for scythes to have relations with one another. We satisfy our passions out there in the world with no emotional connections. There is a reason for that!” “Now you sound like the old guard,” she said. He took that like a slap in the face … but then he looked at her – really looked at her – and suddenly arrived at a revelation that she hadn’t even considered herself. “You could have expressed this desire of yours in the daytime, but you didn’t. You came to me at night. In the dark. Why is that, Ayn?” he asked. She had no answer for him. “If I had accepted your advances, would you have imagined it was him?” he asked. “Your weak-minded party boy?” “Of course not!” She was horrified. Not just by the suggestion, but by how much truth there might be to it. “How could you even think that?

I don't want to be careful!" he said. "What I want is to be down there with her, just like I was in the vault." He couldn't stop his tears now. He hated that Cirrus could see them. He hated Cirrus. And the Thunderhead, and Goddard, and everyone on Earth who made this happen. "I want to be with her," Rowan told Cirrus. "That's what I want. I want to be frozen with her for the next 117 years.