Thieves And Liars Quotes

He was brother to a liar and brother to an angel, son of a dream and son of a dreamer.

Choose your leaders with wisdom and forethought. To be led by a coward is to be controlled by all that the coward fears. To be led by a fool is to be led by the opportunists who control the fool. To be led by a thief is to offer up your most precious treasures to be stolen. To be led by a liar is to ask to be told lies. To be led by a tyrant is to sell yourself and those you love into slavery.

The trouble with writing a book about yourself is that you can’t fool around. If you write about someone else, you can stretch the truth from here to Finland. If you write about yourself the slightest deviation makes you realize instantly that there may be honor among thieves, but you are just a dirty liar.

Do you believe,' said Candide, 'that men have always massacred each other as they do to-day, that they have always been liars, cheats, traitors, ingrates, brigands, idiots, thieves, scoundrels, gluttons, drunkards, misers, envious, ambitious, bloody-minded, calumniators, debauchees, fanatics, hypocrites, and fools?' Do you believe,' said Martin, 'that hawks have always eaten pigeons when they have found them?

This is the excellent foppery of the world, that when we are sick in fortune (often the surfeits of our own behavior) we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and stars, as if we were villains on necessity; fools by heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and treachers by spherical predominance; drunkards, liars, and adulterers by an enforced obedience of planetary influence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on. An admirable evasion of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish disposition on the charge of a star! My father compounded with my mother under the Dragon's tail, and my nativity was under Ursa Major, so that it follows I am rough and lecherous. I should have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing.

Ronan Lynch lived with every sort of secret. His first secret was himself. He was brother to a liar and brother to an angel, son of a dream and son of a dreamer. He was a warring star full of endless possibilities, but in the end, as he dreamt in the backseat on the way to the Barns that night, he created only this...

In all ages the people have honored those who dishonored them. They have worshiped their destroyers; they have canonized the most gigantic liars, and buried the great thieves in marble and gold. Under the loftiest monuments sleeps the dust of murder.

This,” James said, when he had disappeared. “This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune—often the surfeit of our own behavior—we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars … as if we were villains on necessity; fools by heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and treachers by spherical predominance; drunkards, liars, and adulterers by an enforc’d obedience of planetary influence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting-on!

Can a man who lies, cheats, steals, and sometimes does violence to other people be a man of honor? Kolabati looked into his eyes. "He can if he lies to liars, cheats cheaters, steals from thieves, and limits his violence to those who are violent.

99% of all addicts are liars and thieves. This might sound unfair and even close-minded, but it's the truth. There are some exceptions to the rules, but they are incredibly rare. Most people are no match for their addictions. They will be driven to do things they would normally never have considered all in the name of getting high. Sad, but true. So if you're thinking of trying drugs, keep in mind that all the people you will be dealing with are likely to steal from you and lie to you at your own expense.

Thieves and liars kill indirectly, unintentionally, and with no other weapon than their tongues and malice.

We must do what they fear--tell the truth, spread the truth. This is the most power weapon against this regime of liars, thieves, and hypocrites. Everyone has this weapon. So make use of it.

You need to remember that your excuses are seducers, your fears are liars and your doubts are thieves.

Limitation is nothing more than a mentality that too many good people practice daily until they believe it’s reality. It breaks my heart to see so many potentially powerful human beings stuck in a story about why they can’t be extraordinary, professionally and personally. You need to remember that your excuses are seducers, your fears are liars and your doubts are thieves.

The investment world nevertheless has enough liars, cheaters, and thieves to keep Satan's check-in clerks frantically busy for decades to come.

The world would always have the liars and traitors and thieves, but there were still those who were good at heart.

Ours is the only civilization in history which has enshrined mediocrity as its national ideal. Others have been corrupt, but leave it to us to invent the most undistinguished of corruptions. No orgies, no blood running in the street, no babies thrown off cliffs. No, we're sentimental people and we horrify easily. True, our moral fiber is rotten. Our national character stinks to high heaven. But we are kinder than ever. No prostitute ever responded with a quicker spasm of sentiment when our hearts are touched. Nor is there anything new about thievery, lewdness, lying, adultery. What is new is that in our time liars and thieves and whores and adulterers wish also to be congratulated by the great public, if their confession is sufficiently psychological or strikes a sufficiently heartfelt and authentic note of sincerity. Oh, we are sincere. I do not deny it. I don't know anybody nowadays who is not sincere.

As the carriage rolled under the Institute’s gates, James saw his parents standing in the courtyard. “And where have you been?” Will demanded as James clambered out of the carriage. The others leaped down behind him, the girls, being in gear, needing no help to dismount. “You stole our carriage.” James wished he could tell his father the truth, but that would be breaking their sworn promise to Ragnor. “It’s only the second-best carriage,” James protested. “Remember when Papa stole Uncle Gabriel’s carriage? It’s a proud family tradition,” said Lucie, as the group of them approached the Institute steps. “I did not raise you to be horse thieves and scallywags,” said Will. “And I recall very clearly that I told you—” “Thank you for letting them borrow the carriage to come and get me,” said Cordelia. Her eyes were wide, and she looked entirely innocent. James felt an amused stab of surprise: she was an interestingly skilful liar. “I had very much wanted to come to the Institute and see what I could do to help.” Will softened immediately. “Of course. You are always welcome here, Cordelia.

We must do what they fear -- tell the truth, spread the truth. This is the most powerful weapon against this regime of liars, thieves and hypocrites. Everyone has this weapon. So make use of it.

Few of us are murderers or thieves, but we have all been liars.

we owe nothing to the dead. Especially when the dead are thieves and liars, too.

He is a liar, a thief, a killer and a cannibal. And he is running for political office! Someone must stop him.

Do you believe," said Candide, "that men have always massacred each other as they do to-day, that they have always been liars, cheats, traitors, ingrates, brigands, idiots, thieves, scoundrels, gluttons, drunkards, misers, envious, ambitious, bloody-minded, calumniators, debauchees, fanatics, hypocrites, and fools?" "Do you believe," said Martin, "that hawks have always eaten pigeons when they have found them?" "Yes, without doubt," said Candide. "Well, then," said Martin, "if hawks have always had the same character why should you imagine that men may have changed theirs?

I didn’t understand much of his work, but his central argument was quite compelling: we owe nothing to the dead. Especially when the dead are thieves and liars, too. And fuck it, I’ll just say it: taking Athena’s manuscript felt like reparations, payback for the things that Athena took from me.

Let me enlighten you. We are a pack of liars, thieves, and wastrels, the lot of us...There is not an honestly gained parcel of land in the whole earldom. Every acre, every village was stolen through one reprehensible manner or another. Deceit, blackmail, extortion, all of it. It’s disgusting.” Alex waited a moment to make sure Whit was quite through before asking, “How long ago?” “Did we steal the land, do you mean?” Alex nodded. “Up until about a hundred years ago, then the wastrels took over.

I was hung on a tree, made of tongues of the weak. The branches and bone of the liars and thieves.

Only honest people take you at your word. Liars and thieves expect the same in return. Unfortunately for him, I didn’t have a problem lying when it came to saving my own ass.

Ronan Lynch lived with every sort of secret. His first secret was himself. He was brother to a liar and brother to an angel, son of a dream and son of a dreamer.

I didn’t understand much of his work, but his central argument was quite compelling: we owe nothing to the dead. Especially when the dead are thieves and liars, too.

Yoo hoo! Mr Nobody! Mr Nameless! Mr Master of Illusion! Mr Sleight of Hand, grandson of thieves and liars! We're here too, the ones without names. The other ones without names. The ones with shame stuck onto us by others. The ones pointed at, the ones fingered. The chore girls, the bright-cheeked girls, the juicy gigglers, the cheeky young wigglers, the young bloodscrubbers.

We must do what they fear—tell the truth, spread the truth. This is the most powerful weapon against this regime of liars, thieves, and hypocrites. Everyone has this weapon. So make use of it.

To the betrayers, liars and the thieves; your fate will be waiting in the dark of night, burrowing like a snake. And it will come for you when you least expect it. It always comes when you least expect it.” ~NSS

Do you trust," said Candide, "that guys have always massacred every other as they do to-day, that they've always been liars, cheats, traitors, ingrates, brigands, idiots, thieves, scoundrels, gluttons, drunkards, misers, green with envy, formidable, bloody-minded, calumniators, debauchees, enthusiasts, hypocrites, and fools?

Most of the travelers, liars, thieves, and shameless personalities of the twentieth century are not tricksters at all, then. Their disruptions are not subtle enough, or pitched at a high enough level. Trickster isn’t a run-of-themill liar and thief. When he lies and steals, it isn’t so much to get away with something or get rich as to disturb the established categories of truth and property and, by so doing, open the road to possible new worlds.

On the whole, perhaps, it might be admitted that rough justice was done, but it exasperated the assistant that his chief trusted his instinct rather than the evidence. He would not listen to reason. He browbeat the witnesses and when they did not see what he wished them to called them thieves and liars.

From top to bottom we have: the seducers whipped by demons … the flatterers adrift in human excrement … the clerical profiteers half buried upside down with their legs in the air … the sorcerers with their heads twisted backward … the corrupt politicians in boiling pitch … the hypocrites wearing heavy leaden cloaks … the thieves bitten by snakes … the fraudulent counselors consumed by fire … the sowers of discord hacked apart by demons … and finally, the liars, who are diseased beyond recognition.

Having spent my first year in prison, I want to tell everyone exactly the same thing I shouted to those who gathered outside the court when the guards were taking me off to the police truck. Don’t be afraid of anything. This is our country and it’s the only one we have. The only thing we should fear is that we will surrender our homeland to be plundered by a gang of liars, thieves, and hypocrites. That we will surrender without a fight, voluntarily, our own future and the future of our children. Huge thanks to all of you for your support. I can feel it. I’d just like to add: This year has gone by incredibly quickly. It seems only yesterday I was boarding the plane to Moscow, and now I’ve already completed a year in prison. It’s true what they say in science books: time on earth and in space passes at different speeds. I love you all. Hugs to everyone.

Because Niall Lynch was the biggest liar of them all, and he’d stuffed all of that into his eldest son. There was not much difference between a lie and a secret.

The present is all you can truly know of any man, and even of that you can glimpse only a fragment, however long you remain in his company.

The world hates those who do not conform. It is easier to forgive liars and cheaters, thieves and murderers than to tolerate someone who does not aspire to the same things as others.

Ah, this is like all bankers are thieves, all lawyers are liars, and all women are whores.’ ‘I’d rather be a whore than a banker.’ ‘That’s handy then. I’d rather be a banker who buys a whore.

The future is a cold mistress. You can give all your life looking to her and trying to catch hold of her but she'll always dance away from your fingertips and laugh back at you from the distance. Them that say they know are liars and thieves.

And I'd like you to speak to the herdsman about borrowing another yak. I don't like the looks of the one your father offered. The way it stares at me, it's as if it's plotting something. I don't travel with plotters. Thieves, liars, cheats, that's all right, but I can't stand plotters.” …. “Finally, see if you can find me a good ice ax. I lost mine.” ... “You lost your--” “A yak trampled it on my last expedition. Snapped it in two. Did you hear what I said about choosing your yak carefully?

Hope is the name that should be at the top of the Hit List. It’s worse than our enemies. Our enemies are thieves, but they come as advertised. Hope is ignorance, a liar, an accidental creature made of fear. And it failed my first love just as it failed me.

The liar is no whit better than the thief, and if his mendacity takes the form of slander he may be worse than most thieves. It puts a premium upon knavery untruthfully to attack an honest man, or even with hysterical exaggeration to assail a bad man with untruth.

If, instead of saying that thieves will go to prison or liars will go to hell, we could make people think that stealing is as bad as going to a funeral in a coloured tie, or lying as bad as frying a sausage on the parlour fire, we should achieve a colossal reformation.

They [the Mormons] are a set of horse thieves, liars, and counterfeiters. They'll swear a false oath on any occasion to save another Mormon. They are thieves and knaves and dupes in the bargain, and no property is safe in Daviess County if they continue to pour into this area. If you suffer the Mormons to vote in this election, it will mean the end of your suffrage.

Paul was an attorney. And this was what his as yet brief career in the law had done to his brain. He was comforted by minutiae. His mortal fears could be assuaged only by an encyclopedic command of detail. Paul was a professional builder of narratives. He was a teller of concise tales. His work was to take a series of isolated events and, shearing from them their dross, craft from them a progression. The morning’s discrete images—a routine labor, a clumsy error, a grasping arm, a crowded street, a spark of fire, a blood-speckled child, a dripping corpse—could be assembled into a story. There would be a beginning, a middle, and an end. Stories reach conclusions, and then they go away. Such is their desperately needed magic. That day’s story, once told in his mind, could be wrapped up, put aside, and recalled only when necessary. The properly assembled narrative would guard his mind from the terror of raw memory. Even a true story is a fiction, Paul knew. It is the comforting tool we use to organize the chaotic world around us into something comprehensible. It is the cognitive machine that separates the wheat of emotion from the chaff of sensation. The real world is overfull with incidents, brimming over with occurrences. In our stories, we disregard most of them until clear reason and motivation emerge. Every story is an invention, a technological device not unlike the very one that on that morning had seared a man’s skin from his bones. A good story could be put to no less dangerous a purpose. As an attorney, the tales that Paul told were moral ones. There existed, in his narratives, only the injured and their abusers. The slandered and the liars. The swindled and the thieves. Paul constructed these characters painstakingly until the righteousness of his plaintiff—or his defendant—became overwhelming. It was not the job of a litigator to determine facts; it was his job to construct a story from those facts by which a clear moral conclusion would be unavoidable. That was the business of Paul’s stories: to present an undeniable view of the world. And then to vanish, once the world had been so organized and a profit fairly earned.

Back in the days when the settlers were moving to the West, a wise man stood on a hill outside a new Western town. As the settlers came from the East, the wise man was the first person they met before coming to the settlement. They asked eagerly what the people of the town were like. He answered them with a question: "What were the people like in the town you just left?" Some said, "The town we came from was wicked. The people were rude gossips who took advantage of innocent people. It was filled with thieves and liars." The wise man answered, "This town is the same as the one you left." They thanked the man for saving them from the trouble they had just come out of. They then moved on further west. Then another group of settlers arrived and asked the same question: "What is this town like?" The wise man asked again, "What was the town like where you came from?" These responded, "It was wonderful! We had dear friends. Everyone looked out for the others' interest. There was never any lack because all cared for one another. If someone had a big project, the entire community gathered to help. It was a hard decision to leave, but we felt compelled to make way for future generations by going west as pioneers." The wise old man said to them exactly what he had said to the other group: "This town is the same as the one you left." These people responded with joy, "Let's settle here!

But there are human beings who, though of necessity single in body, are dual in character; — in whose breasts not only is evil always fighting against good, — but to whom evil is sometimes horribly, hideously evil, but is sometimes also not hideous at all. Of such men it may be said that Satan obtains an intermittent grasp, from which, when it is released, the rebound carries them high amidst virtuous resolutions and a thorough love of things good and noble. Such men, — or women, — may hardly, perhaps, debase themselves with the more vulgar vices. They will not be rogues, or thieves, or drunkards, — or, perhaps, liars; but ambition, luxury, self-indulgence, pride, and covetousness will get a hold of them, and in various moods will be to them virtues in lieu of vices.

There are in the body politic, economic and social, many and grave evils and there is urgent necessity for the sternest war upon them... I hail as a benefactor every writer or speaker, every man who, on the platform or in book, magazine or newspaper, with merciless severity makes such attack, provided always that he in his turn remembers that the attack is of use only if it is absolutely truthful. The liar is no whit better than the thief, and if his mendacity takes the form of slander he may be worse than most thieves. It puts a premium upon knavery untruthfully to attack an honest man, or even with hysterical exaggeration to assail a bad man with untruth... “...The effort to make financial or political profit out of their destruction of character can only result in public calamity. Gross and reckless assaults on character, whether on the stump or in newspaper or magazine or book, create a morbid and vicious public sentiment, and at the same time act as a profound deterrent to able men of normal sensitiveness and tend to prevent them from entering the public service at any price.

Do you want me?”, she asks matter of factly. Out of all the things I thought she’d say, that definitely wasn’t one of them. I honestly don’t know how to answer that question. If I reply no, I’d be the biggest liar. If I reply yes, I’d still be a liar because the word “want” is just too simple a term to describe how I feel about her. Maybe need is a better word? I needed to own her. To invade every one of her senses, the way she has mine. I needed to fall asleep to the sound of her breathing and wake up to her face every day for the rest of my life. I needed to save her so she could save me. Right now, despite all of the dangers and uncertainty surrounding us, I just needed…her. So I answer with the same level of simplicity in which she asked me the question. “Yes.” I reply.

This,” James said, when he had disappeared. “This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune—often the surfeit of our own behavior—we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars … as if we were villains on necessity; fools by heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and treachers by spherical predominance; drunkards, liars, and adulterers by an enforced obedience of planetary influence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting-on!

Gallo’s theft provided a withering portrait of Gallo as a sociopath and pathological liar who employed thieving felons to run his lab, a pirate enterprise engaged in pilfering money from the federal government and swiping discoveries from other scientists.

I ONLY steal because my dear old family needs the money to live!".. "Liar!" they chorused in unison. "I only steal because this wicked world won't let me work an honest trade!" Calo cried, hoisting his own glass. "Liar!" "I only steal because I have to support my poor lazy twin brother, whose indolence broke our mother's heart!" Galdo elbowed Calo as he made his announcement. "Liar!" "I only steal," said Jean, "because I've temporarily fallen in with bad company." "Liar!" At last the ritual came to Bug; the boy raised his glass a bit shakily and yelled, " I only steal because it's heaps of fucking fun!" "BASTARD!" With the general clamor of whooping and holllering the five thieves banged glasses together.

So in the eighth circle are the liars, flatterers, and sellers of office, the fortune tellers, hypocrites, and thieves, the pimps and grafters, and all such scum.

need to remember that your excuses are seducers, your fears are liars and your doubts are thieves.

The tyrants, thieves, cheaters, liars and such one other have not a right to blame and accuse similar ones since that prevent, to execute it.

in this moment of orangutans, wolves, and scavengers, of high heat redesigning the north & south poles and the wanderings of new tribes in limousines, with the confirmations of liars, thieves, and get-over artists, in the wilderness of pennsylvania avenue, standing rock, misspelled executive orders on yellow paper with crooked signatures. where are the kind language makers among us? at a time of extreme climate damage, deciphering fake news, alternative truths, and me-ism you saw the twenty-first century and left us not on your own accord or permission. you have fought and fought most of the twentieth century creating an army of poets who learned and loved language and stories of complicated rivers, seas, and oceans. where is the kind green nourishment of kale and wheatgrass? you thought, wrote, and lived poetry, knew that terror is also language based on denial, first-ism, and rich cowards. you were honey and yes to us, never ran from Black as in bones, Africa, blood and questioning yesterdays and tomorrows. we never saw you dance but you had rhythm, you were a warrior before the war, creating earth language, uncommon signs and melodies, and did not sing the songs of career slaves. keenly aware of tubman, douglass, wells-barnett, du bois, and the oversized consciousness and commitment of never-quit people religiously taking note of the bloodlust enemies of kindness we hear your last words: america if you see me as your enemy you have no friends.

While I don't believe it's possible to avoid getting at least some your fingerprints on your work, I try never to write autobiographically. I've written about murderers and thieves, bigots and liars and saints, and while it's fascinating to catch glimpses of the world from their eyes, I am none of these things.

I hate all the white people. ... You are thieves and liars. You have taken away our land and made us outcasts.

To become better writers we must become the best thieves and liars in the business. We slink around the pages of everyone else’s work and shove it into our pockets. Then we run home and try to make it our own.

Today, people try to rank the gravity of sins; they think that homosexuals, thieves, and murderers are greater sinners than liars or gossips. But in the eyes of the Lord, all these sins have the same weight and the same pay. The Bible tells us, "The wages of sin is death" "the soul that sins will die." (Romans 6:23) (Ezekiel 18:20) My friends and brothers, I invite you now to accept Jesus' invitation. Jesus is extending His hand of mercy to you if you repent. The Word of the Lord tells us that the one that changes his ways and repents will be given mercy. It is much better to believe now, than to wait and find out the hard way later. God bless you.

Lies are like wounds; they fester unless treated and exposed to the air.

I used to want everyone to like me. I used to want to please everyone. And yes, it’s still something I battle with to this day, with one major difference. Nowadays, I’m as proud of my enemies as I am of my friends. When your enemies are liars and thieves, abusers and sexual predators, then you’ve done something right. I have become comfortable with being uncomfortable. I no longer shirk from a fight. I look forward to it. Every time I win, it makes me stronger and more able to handle the next attack that comes my way.

is nothing more than a mentality that too many good people practice daily until they believe it’s reality. It breaks my heart to see so many potentially powerful human beings stuck in a story about why they can’t be extraordinary, professionally and personally. You need to remember that your excuses are seducers, your fears are liars and your doubts are thieves.

Never was a government that was not composed of liars, malefactors, and thieves. —Marcus Tullius Cicero (106–43 BC)

excuses are seducers, your fears are liars and your doubts are thieves.

The lie [is] that we're here to uplift our poor black brothers instead of to rob them. I suppose it's a natural enough lie. But it corrupts us, it corrupts us in ways you can't imagine. There's an everlasting sense of being a sneak and a liar that torments us and drives us to justify ourselves night and day. It's at the bottom of half our beastliness to the natives. We Anglo-Indians could be almost bearable if we'd only admit that we're thieves and go on thieving without any humbug.

Until our appearance on the scene, the Jews have driven every "conservative" opponent into hiding with the fearful accusation. "You're a fascist, a Nazi!" So far, even the so-called "anti-semitic" organizations have all run like rabbits when they have been hit with that one... For the first time, with the arrival on the American scene of the American Nazi Party, there is now a spiritual force to look these Jew terrorists in the eye when they start that "You're-a-Nazi"-bit and reply, "You're damned right we're Nazis, and we will soon enough take care of you traitors, thieves, liars, terrorists and communist enemies!

Blankets could be used to identify liars and thieves, if lawmakers passed laws stating that lawmakers were required by law to wear blankets out in public.


Cygnus was to remain with the wagon to guard it, though Zophiel protested that allowing a one-armed man to guard anything was like putting a leash on a rabbit and expecting it to hunt boar.

looked down

James Shannon delivered the convention’s opening address, which set the tone for the two-day event. His remarks were nothing if not unequivocal. Any threat to the biblically sanctioned right to hold slaves, Shannon assured his audience, “is just cause of war between the separate states.” Those who advocated restrictions on slavery he denounced as “liars, yelping curs, assassins, knaves, Negro thieves and horse thieves.”14 After

And while the church slept, kept silent and remain indifferent and lukewarm Basking in the wealth and favors of the Sodom and Gomorrah movement Their adversary, Lucifer, went about, quietly Devouring and deceiving its people... Murderers, liars, thieves, adulterers, fornicators are all sinners And they accept the fact that they are They are not proud of what they do The thief beside Jesus on the cross ask the Lord to accept him in His kingdom However Sodomites and Gomorrahites are shameless and brazen Up in God's face Shouting look at me, look at me! Will the adulterous, fornicators, liars, murderers and thieves follow suit? Glorifying and parading their sins? Are these Sodomites the leaders of the deceivers of God? These people are pleading for God's wrath upon the earth. Shouldn't we be asking for mercy? God is not fooled. He will not be mocked. Moses went up to Mt Sanai to hear from God When he got back the people were reveling Parading in sin and idol worshiping They forgot how God had led them with His mighty hand My God. O my God Do not be deceived There is no pride in sin We should humbly ask God's forgiveness We should be ashamed of our sins But for those who are not... God is NEVER to be mocked Help us O dear God.

I also wonder about gold fever, why it make some men crazy and others wise. Such as Sam, my father, and Captain clinkingbeard They suffered heartbreak and loss just as Jesse Blue had, but they didn't become thieves or liars. Why? I asked papa. What makes the difference? His eyes were gentle when he looked at me. "It seems that true character of often isn't revealed until a person is faced with temptation".

These men of the Round Table all have that in common: they are unholy sneaks and thieves and liars to a man, and will connive and scheme and murder to pursue their goals. No wonder they all flock to Camelot. It is that great cesspool into which all the loungers and idlers of the kingdom are irresistibly drained.

It means we’re bad people,” Gabriel said with a ghost of a smile. “We lie. We cheat. We steal. We kill. So long as we take out the trash and keep the peace with the other liars, cheaters, thieves, and killers, nobody really cares.

The general theme of his research was under what circumstances someone counts as a moral agent that deserves consideration. I didn’t understand much of his work, but his central argument was quite compelling: we owe nothing to the dead. Especially when the dead are thieves and liars, too.

Um, boss?” Luc looked over his shoulder. “Hm?” He followed the tilt of Zorun’s four horns to the middle of the lobby, where a tiny figure stood all alone, looking at everything and everyone with bewilderment. [...] Luc walked over slowly, a frown on his face as he stared down at the young man. “Why are you still standing there?” [...] “Name?” Luc asked, trying to get something out of the man. The human shook himself out of his stupor and held out his hand to Luc. “Oren.” “Okay, Oren, hi. I’m Luc,” he said, indulging in the silly little human display of politeness and reaching out a clawed hand to engulf Oren’s with it. His skin was warm to the touch, his palm tiny and fragile in Luc’s hold. “Why aren’t you with your group?” Oren kept the grip on Luc’s hand firm, looking around at the clusters of people huddled together, waiting to be led to their rooms. “I… I don’t have one?” He looked up at Luc, clearly confused. “I don’t think I missed any of them. Adulterers, thieves, traitors…” He ticked off the groups, looking at each one as he did, his memory clearly impeccable. He got to the final group then looked up again. “I’m not any of those things.” Luc boomed with laughter, letting go of his hand and finally breaking the contact between them. “Ah,” he said. “We haven’t had one of you in a while. Everyone, we have an innocent soul on our hands!” His words halted the slow shuffle of people and prompted a cacophony of laughter and slurs thrown Oren’s way as his demons mocked his delusion of being an innocent in Hell. “Thank you for the laugh. You can shack up with the liars,” Luc said, grabbing a yellow sticky note and pressing it to Oren’s chest. [...]

Limitation is nothing more than a mentality that too many good people practice daily until they believe it’s reality. It breaks my heart to see so many potentially powerful human beings stuck in a story about why they can’t be extraordinary, professionally and personally. You need to remember that your excuses are seducers, your fears are liars, and your doubts are thieves.

Making money is not the sole purpose of life. After all, even thieves, liars, fraudsters, and corrupt politicians can fill their pockets. The real question is not how much you earn, but how you earn it. It’s not the size of your wealth that matters, but the integrity with which you build it. To earn honestly, with respect and honor, even if it’s less, is far greater than gaining through deceit. For money earned through dishonesty brings only temporary satisfaction, while money earned with your values intact offers lasting peace and pride. It’s in the choices we make and the path we walk that true wealth lies, not just in what we have, but in who we become.

Krita signifies the lucky or “well-made” throw, dvāpara (deuce) a throw of two points, tretā (trey) a throw of three points, and kali (from the verbal root kal, “to impel”) the total loss, indicated by a single point on the die. The word kali is not, as is often thought, the same as the name of the well-known goddess Kālī.4 However, since Kālī symbolizes both time and destruction, it does not seem farfetched to connect her specifically with the kali-yuga, though of course she is deemed to govern all spans and modes of time. The Tantras describe the first, golden age as an era of material and spiritual plenty. According to the Mahānirvāna-Tantra (1.20–29), people were wise and virtuous and pleased the deities and forefathers by their practice of Yoga and sacrificial rituals. By means of their study of the Vedas, meditation, austerities, mastery of the senses, and charitable deeds, they acquired great fortitude and power. Even though mortal, they were like the deities (deva). The rulers were high minded and ever concerned with protecting the people entrusted to them, while among the ordinary people there were no thieves, liars, fools, or gluttons. Nobody was selfish, envious, or lustful. The favorable psychology of the people was reflected outwardly in land producing all kinds of grain in plenty, cows yielding abundant milk, trees laden with fruits, and ample seasonable rains fertilizing all vegetation. There was neither famine nor sickness, nor untimely death. People were good-hearted, happy, beautiful, and prosperous. Society was well ordered and peaceful. In the next world age, the tretā-yuga, people lost their inner peace and became incapable of applying the Vedic rituals properly, yet clung to them anxiously. Out of pity, the god Shiva brought helpful traditions (smriti) into the world, by which the ancient teachings could be better understood and practiced. But humanity was set on a worsening course, which became obvious in the third world age. People abandoned the methods prescribed in the Smritis, and thereby only magnified their perplexity and suffering. Their physical and emotional illnesses increased, and as the Mahānirvāna-Tantra insists, they lost half of the divinely appointed law (dharma). Again Shiva intervened by making the teachings of the Samhitas and other religious scriptures available. With the rise of the fourth world age, the kali-yuga, all of the divinely appointed law was lost.

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