I hear the wind blowing across the desert and I see
the moons of a winter night rising like great ships in the void. To
them I make my vow: I will be resolute and make an art of government:
I will balance my inherited past and become a perfect storehouse of
my relic memories. And I will be known for kindliness more than for
knowledge. My face will shine down the corridors of time for as long
as humans exist.
Frank Herbert, Dune
