Most pleasures are best as a seasoning, not the main course. p. 374

Hooves clomping over the whitewashed planks, Doren sprinted along the boardwalk after Rondus, a portly satyr with butterscotch fur and horns that curved away from each other. Puffing hard, Rondus cut through a gazebo and started down the stairs to the field. Only a few steps behind, Doren went airborne and slammed into the heavyset satyr. Together they pitched violently forward into the grass, staining their skin green.

What has three heads, six arms, and half a brain?" Three asked. One and Two answered in unison. "Nate Sutter.

A crossbow?” Pigeon asked. I left my battle-ax in my other jeans,” the man said.

...Why are all these masks winking?" Jason pointed around the room with his fork. The loremaster dabbed at his mouth with a frilled purple napkin. "One eye is open to all truth, the other closed to all deception.

I don't know how you're standing here. Yet you haven't broken. Not where it matters. Having come this far, I'm not sure you can be broken.

And you came back to Lyrian?" Galloran said in disbelief. "Believe it or not, I came through the same hippopotamus that brought me here the first time. Jumped into the tank on purpose. I wanted to keep others from wasting their time pursuing the Word. And I couldn't ditch Rachel." Galloran smiled. "Truly, you are possessed by that species of madness that begets heroism.