Wild Justice – Wilbur Smith
Parker had trained himself to be totally celibate, channelling all his sexual energies into pursuits of the mind […]
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(on terrorists)
“You know the (their) reasoning. If destruction is beautiful, then self-destruction is immortality.”
About this topic, Piero Cipriano in The Society of Deviants does a beautiful analysis.
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This time she would stay exactly within the recommended dosage, and she anticipated the rush of it through her blood, the heightened vision and energy, the tingling exhilaration of the drug. She even anticipated the thought of what lay ahead; to be able to wield absolute power, the power of death itself, was one of life’s most worthwhile experiences. Sartre and Bakunin and Most had discovered one of the great truths of life: that the act of destruction, of total destruction, was a catharsis, a creation, a reawakening of the soul. She looked forward, even through the staleness and ache of the drug let-down, she looked forward to the next executions.
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He could recite by heart most of Bakunin’s The Revolutionary Catechism, especially the definition of the true revolutionary: The lost man, who has no belongings, no outside interest, no personal ties of any sort, not even a name.
Possessed of but one thought, interest and passion: the revolution. A man who has broken with society, broken with its laws and conventions. He must despise the opinions of others, and be prepared for death and torture at any time. Hard towards himself, he must be hard to others, and in his heart there must be no place for love, friendship, gratitude or even honour.
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“Give me a Bolshevik intellectual over a neurotic ex-wife any day.”
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“We turn off here,” the driver explained, and swung off into a section of new apartment blocks, all of them built of the custard-yellow Jerusalem stone, row upon row of them, Israel’s desperate attempt to house its new citizens. At this time of evening the streets were deserted, as families gathered for the evening meal.