I want a sword not a knitting needle -Kalen
It's the nature of man to ask questions. --Belgarath
I hesitate to predict whether this theory is true. But if the general opinion of Mankind is optimistic then we're in for a period of extreme popularity for science fiction.
The first thing the boy Garion remembered was the kitchen at Faldor's farm. For all the rest of his life he had a special warm feeling for kitchens and those peculiar sounds and smells that seemed somehow to combine into a bustling seriousness that had to do with love and food and comfort and security and, above all, home. No matter how high Garion rose in life, he never forgot that all his memories began in that kitchen.
Misty Sendaria," Silk said ironically. "Sometimes I'm amazed that the entire kingdom doesn't rust shut.
The unfortunate thing about working for yourself is that you have the worst boss in the world. I work every day of the year except at Christmas, when I work a half day.
Belgarath and Garion effortlessly hurdled over the driftwood and loped off into the fog. "It's going to be a wet day," Garion noted soundlessly as he ran alongside the great silver wolf. "Your fur won't melt." "I know, but my paws get cold when they're wet." "I'll have Durnik make you some little booties." "That would be absolutely ridiculous, Grandfather," Garion said indignantly.
I'd really like to go with you, Agachak. Truly I would...but I just can't." "I don't understand. Why not?" "I'm not allowed to leave home. My mother'd punish me something awful if I did..." "But you're the king." "That doesn't change a thing. I still do what mother says. She tells everybody that I'm the best boy ever when it comes to that." Agachak resisted a powerful urge to change this half-wit into a toad or perhaps a jellyfish.
...I know that in your heart you miss all those wonderful moments you spent with my father --watching him gnaw on the furniture, listening to his insane gibbering, and enjoying all those playful blows to the stomach and kicks to the head with which he demonstrated his affection for his wives. --King Urgit
I'm never going to be in danger of getting the Nobel Prize for literature.
You're a cynic," Urgit accused. Silk shook his head. "No, Your Majesty. I'm a realist.
Whatever happened to him?" Silk asked. "He went swimming in the Nedrane." "I didn't know that Thulls swam all that well." "They don't–particularly not with large rocks tied to their feet.
Why do you persist in being so frivolous, Urgit?" "Why don't we just call it a symptom of my incipient madness?" "You're not going to go mad," she said firmly. "Of course I'm going to go mad, mother. I'm rather looking forward to it.
It's all very well to put the government in the hands of the perfect man, but what do you do when the perfect man gets a bellyache?
The notion that any one person can describe 'what really happened' is an absurdity. If ten - or a hundred - people witness an event, there will be ten - or a hundred - different versions of what took place. What we see and how we interpret it depends entirely upon our individual past experience.
Sparhawk grinned. "If Martel finds out that he's drinking again, he'll reach down his throat and pull his heart out." "Can you actually do that to a man?" "You can if your arm's long enough, and if you know what you're looking for.[...]
I've fallen back on this periodically, although I must say that getting out of the grocery business ranked right up there with getting out of the army as one of the happier experiences of my life.
I have an unconscious burglar living in my mind: If I read something, it's mine. I can read Middle English stories, Geoffrey Chaucer or Sir Thomas Malory, but once I start moving in the direction of contemporary fantasy, my mind begins to take over.
Don’t be afraid to discard work you know isn’t up to standard. Don’t save junk, just because it took you a long time to write it.
I wrote a novel for my degree, and I'm very happy I didn't submit that to a publisher. I sympathize with my professors who had to read it.
You'll drive yourself crazy if you start trying to pry the meaning out of every gust of wind or rain squall. I'm not denying that there might actually be a few signs that you won't want to miss. Knowing the difference is the tricky part.
Vella looked around. "This is really a revolting place, Yarblek," she told him. "You've been spending too much time with Porenn," he said. "You're starting to get delicate." "How would you like to have me gut you?" she offered. "That's my girl.
Reed College required a thesis for a Bachelor's degree. Normally a Bachelor's is sort of like being stamped 'Prime US Beef.' They just walk you through, hand out the diplomas and you fill in your name later on.
Garion started shaving. "Try to keep away from your nose," said Hettar wryly. "A man looks quite strange without a nose.
Call it my little gesture toward social conscience, but I like to think I'm teaching a certain number of people to read. Now that sounds pretentious!
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