Though I was less than satisfied with this novel, it did have its redeeming parts. This following passage questions the rationality of nationalism; the illogical and evil religion worshiped by For all of humanity's sake, I hope we can advance beyond this childish notion of fixed-pie economics, where unfortunately the bulk of grownups live a nightmarish reality, feeling threatened by the mere existence of other people.
"How does one hate a country, or love one? Tibe talks about it; I lack the trick of it. I know people, I know towns, farms hills and rivers and rocks, I know how the sun at sunset in the autumn falls on the side of a certain plowland in the hills; but what is the sense of giving a boundary to all that, of giving it a name and ceasing to love where the name ceases to apply?
What is love of one's country? Is it hate of one's uncountry? Then it's not a good thing. Is it simply self-love? That's a good thing, but one mustn't make a virtue of it, or a profession...
Insofar as I love life, I love the hills of the Domain of Estre, but that sort of love does not have a boundary-line of hate."
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