"Michael Moorcock - Corum 3 - The King of the Swords" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moorcock Michael)

or the Nhadragh, who had known what it was to move at
will between the dimensions they termed the Five Planes.
They had glimpsed and understood the nature of the many
planes, other than the five, through which the Earth
moved

Therefore it seemed a dreadful injustice that these wise
races should perish at the hands of creatures who were still
little more than animals. It was as if vultures feasted on

and squabbled over the paralyzed body of the youthful
poet who could only stare at them with puzzled eyes as they
slowly robbed him of an exquisite existence they would
never appreciate, never know they were taking.

"If they valued what they stole, if they knew what they
were destroying," says the old Vadhagh in the story, "The
Only Autumn Flower," "then I would be consoled."

It was unjust.

By creating Man, the universe had betrayed the old
races.

But it was a perpetual and familiar injustice. The
sentient may perceive and love the universe, but the
universe cannot perceive and love the sentient. The uni-
verse sees no distinction between the multitude of
creatures and elements which comprise it. All are equal.
None is favored. The universe, equipped with nothing but
the materials and the power of creation, continues to
create: something of this, something of that. It cannot


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control what it creates and it cannot, it seems, be
controlled by its creations (though a few might deceive
themselves otherwise). Those who curse the workings of
the universe curse that which is deaf. Those who strike
out at those workings fight that which is inviolate. Those
who shake their fists, shake their fists at blind stars.

But this does not mean that there are some who will not
try to do battle with and destroy the invulnerable.

There will always be such beings, sometimes beings of
great wisdom, who cannot bear to believe in an insouciant
universe.