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Quote by Lailah Gifty Akita

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Lailah Gifty Akita

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“This book was written in the conviction that what Jesus named as ‘the coming of the Son of Man’ was never meant to be a prophecy of future spectacle or predetermined judgment, but a functional reality all humans will wrestle with and a call to conscious participation in divine reality—through ego death, inner transformation, and the reconciliation of all things.”

“If the first Adam was formed from dust, and the second conceived of Spirit and born of woman, then the coming of the Son of Man signals something even more radical: a third Adam… Not a new individual, but the emergence of a collective humanity, transfigured.”

“It is difficult to recapture… the incongruity of a person self-designated as Son of Man, hanging pierced and bleeding on a cross. The incongruity is … even more offensive when this Son of Man has dinner with a prostitute, stops off for lunch with a tax collector, wastes time blessing children when there were Roman legions to be chased from the land, heals unimportant losers and ignores high achieving Pharisees and influential Sadducees. Jesus juxtaposed the most glorious title available to him [the Son of Man] with the most menial of lifestyles in the culture. He talked like a King and acted like a slave… He was, in fact, Son of Man ‘given dominion and glory and kingdom’, he was, in fact, completely at home in the ordinary, the everyday, the common. He did not give an inch in either direction: he was very God, very man. (Reversed Thunder)”

“But Orcs and Trolls spoke as they would, without love of words or things; and their language was actually more degraded and filthy than I have shown it. I do not suppose that any will wish for a closer rendering, though models are easy to find. Much the same sort of talk can still be heard among the orc-minded; dreary and repetitive with hatred and contempt, too long removed from good to retain even verbal vigour, save in the ears of those to whom only the squalid sounds strong.”

“Perte miye Zaknafein!” the orc cried, and all of the Boscaille soldiers similarly stopped and shouted, in the next refrain. And then, “Perte miye Zaknafein,” the fifty thousand Callidaeans chanted in unison and harmony. On and on it went, louder and louder with each refrain, and the Merry Dancer lights above seemed to sway and dart with every syllable. Fifty thousand voices lifted in the chant. Fifty thousand aevendrow, kurit, Ulutiuns, and arktos oroks jabbed their fingers to point at Zaknafein, this stranger they did not know, this poor fellow who had stumbled upon their land and seemed to be in the last hours of his life. “Perte miye Zaknafein!”