How we cite our quotes: (Page) Vintage Books, 1989
Quote #7
"O the ultimate evil in the temporal world is deeper than any specific evil, such as hatred, or suffering, or death! The ultimate evil is that Time is perpetual perishing, and being actual involves elimination. The nature of evil may be epitomized, therefore, in two simple but horrible and holy propositions: 'Things fade' and 'Alternatives exclude.'" (132-133)
Grendel tries to play a trick on Ork, one of Hrothgar's high priests, and this is what he gets—more philosophy. At first, Grendel can laugh at the old ranter. But suddenly, Ork's theories confirm Grendel's own experiences.
In this discourse on evil, we can recognize the problem Grendel has after leaving the dragon's lair: he can't believe that he is just a blip on the cosmic radar and that his life is meaningless. This, Ork says, is the ultimate problem of existence. Beauty can't be enjoyed without contemplating ugliness or annihilation, for instance. And here's the real kicker: "alternatives exclude." That means that there can't be beauty and ugliness, or good and evil forever: one half of each pair will eventually exclude the other half.
Quote #8
I should have captured him, teased him, tormented him, made a fool of him. I should have cracked his skull midsong and sent his blood spraying out wet through the meadhall like a shocking change of key. One evil deed missed is a loss for all eternity. (146)
Grendel torments himself by thinking of the deadness of the past—how all things good (and evil) that have happened in his life are now completely annihilated by the passage of time. The Shaper really is dead at this point, and Grendel has an interesting way of expressing his grief at the loss of his beautiful songs. If only I had taken the first opportunity to crush his skull, Grendel thinks, I wouldn't have had to put myself through all of that. As always, his response to beauty is pretty complicated. Yours would be, too, if beauty reminded you of the ugliness of your own life.
Quote #9
... And then, quick as wolves—but mechanical, terrible—the strangers leaped down, and with stiff, ice-crusted ropes as gray as the sea, the sky, the stones, they moored their craft. Their chain-mail rattled as they worked—never speaking, walking dead men—lashing the helm-bar, lowering the sail, unloading ashspear shafts and battle-axes. (153)
Grendel has this thing for comparing (and contrasting) human beings with animals. Most of the time, it's tongue-in-cheek: humans are often worse than or scarier than the most powerful animals because they often act against the "natural code."
For instance, humans kill when they aren't hungry and don't intend to eat. As Grendel watches Beowulf and his men disembark from their ship, another frightening dimension is added to his impression of humans: they're like machines—soulless, wolf-like machines. You can't get much more evil than the walking dead. But remember this: these are supposed to be the heroes.