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And as the black clouds came upon them,
They looked on what pride had wrought,
The work of man and woman,
By hubris of their making.
The sorrow a blight unbearable.
—Canticle of Threnodies 7:10-11
Pride! What other sin wounds us so deeply as pride? It drove the old Tevinter magisters to blacken the Golden City, it pushed Maferath to betray Beloved Andraste, and it has made fools of kings and peasants ever since the Maker formed us from nothing.
Pride disguises itself in surety. Who among us has not looked at our fair country and thought "Surely we are safe here, under protection. Our world will last forever, for we are mighty and wise." These verses say to the faithful: go and look upon the ruins of old, and ask who remembers the faces of those who dwelled there? Only the Maker's knowledge is complete. The words He gave to us through Blessed Andraste are the one true constant in our world. A land without the Chant is doomed to be forgotten by time.
—Notes on the Chant of Light, by Mother Bezoria of the Grand Cathedral, 9:37 Dragon