“Each man is a little war.”

Frank Herbert

“off in strata of porous rock by the leathery half-plant, half-animal little makers

Frank Herbert

“A popular man arouses the jealousy of the powerful.”

Frank Herbert

“I will tell you a thing about your new name,” Stilgar said. “The choice pleases us. Muad’Dib is wise in the ways of the desert. Muad’Dib creates his own water. Muad’Dib hides from the sun and travels in the cool night. Muad’Dib is fruitful and multiplies over the land. Muad’Dib we call ‘instructor-of-boys.’ That is a powerful base on which to build your life, Paul-Muad’Dib, who is Usul among us. We welcome you.” Stilgar”

Frank Herbert

“They’d never known anything but victory which, Paul realized, could be a weakness in itself. He put that thought aside for later consideration in his own training program.”

Frank Herbert

“It doesn't follow that the riots mean permanent hostility toward him.”

Frank Herbert

“You must learn to rule. It's something none of your ancestors learned.”

Frank Herbert

“And that day dawned when Arrakis lay at the hub of the universe with the wheel poised to spin.”

Frank Herbert

“They compose poems to their knives.”

Frank Herbert

“Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”

Frank Herbert

“Men looked at their gods and their rituals and saw that both were filled with that most terrible of all equations: fear over ambition.”

Frank Herbert

“Try looking into that place where you dare not look! You'll find me there, staring out at you!”

Frank Herbert

“The power to destroy a thing is the absolute control over it.”

Frank Herbert

“Whirling silence settled around Jessica. Every fiber of her body accepted the fact that something profound had happened to it. She felt that she was a conscious mote, smaller than any subatomic particle, yet capable of motion and of sensing her surroundings. Like an abrupt revelation—the curtains whipped away—she realized she had become aware of a psychokinesthetic extension of herself. She was the mote, yet not the mote.”

Frank Herbert

“My lungs taste the air of Time, Blown past falling sands…”

Frank Herbert


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