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"Orson, why are you smashing all those beetles?"
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He gave me an answer. "Smash the beetles.
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Smash 'em."
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I wasn't deterred.
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I was the smartest person I knew.
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Certainly I had the wherewithal to unravel the mysteries
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that lay at the heart of a moron.
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So I went to Maester Volarik's library.
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Volarik. Tried to touch me once.
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Turns out, far too much has been written about great men
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and not nearly enough about morons.
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Doesn't seem right.