imaginary things were often the only items of real substance in people's lives.

I love to do what I do. So, I do work long hours.

A thing of nature. For every Push, there is a Pull. A consequence.

The sudden and abrupt removal of my all-consuming goal ... well, it was like I was a donut, and somebody had sucked all the jelly out of me. But I could stuff new jelly in there. It would just get my hands a little sticky in the process.

Now, I had been frightened on several different occasions in my life. The most frightening of these involved an elevator and a mime.

What wasdat, sir? What wazzat sir? What wassat, sir?” “Wayne, what are you babbling about?” Waxillium asked. “Practicing my pretzel guy,” Wayne said. “He had a great accent...” Waxillium glanced at him. "That hat looks ridiculous.” “Fortunately, I can change hats,” Wayne said in the pretzel-guy accent, “while you, sir, are stuck with that face.

And is an ending always bad? it asked. Must not all things, even worlds, someday end?"There is no need to hasten that end," Vin said. "No reason to force it."All things are subject to their own nature, Vin, Ruin said, seeming to flow around her. She could feel its touch upon her - wet and delicate, like mist. You cannot blame me for being what I am. Without me, nothing would end. Nothing could end. And therefore, nothing could grow. I am life. Would you fight life itself?