Belgarath turned back to Senji. “All right,” he said. “The Sardion came to Zamad. How?” “It’s said to have fallen out of the sky.” “They always do,” Beldin said. “Someday I’d like to see something rise up out of the earth –just for the sake of variety.

But there's a world beyond what we can see and touch, and that world lives by its own laws. What may be impossible in this very ordinary world is very possible there, and sometimes the boundaries between the two worlds disappear, and then who can say what is possible and impossible?

I'm a storyteller, not a prophet. I'm just interested in a good story.

The only reason there's such a thing as a morning in the first place is to keep night and afternoon from bumping into each other. -Kheldar

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.

I taught in a small teacher's college for three or four years, at which point all the administrators got a pay raise and the teaching faculty didn't.

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.