Villagers

• Our work is consecrated [made holy by] the sun
• Protective of our modest world and fearful for our skinny lives
• There's nothing like a show of heavy justice - and a swinging corpse - to persuade a poplace... that their compliance in all matters... is beyond debate
• We're the majority, they protest, we must be listened to. I hear the word petition
• Dissent is never counted, it is weighed. The master always weighs the most.
• Even if they had a doorway to a church, none of them had a signature
• I think he means to shear us all, then turn us into mutton
• We live in a rookery. A cousinry, let's say. And just like rooks we have begin to look and sound the same
• We dare to think and even say amongst ourselves, there'd be no barley if we left it to the lord, not a single blade
• We could not help but stare at him and wonder... if those scratchings on his board might scratch us too, in some unwelcome way