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.

Wise are you, indeed... to know what is not possible.

Now's the time to be alive - to see it all happen, to be a part of it. That makes the blood race, and each breath is an adventure.

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!

As soon as somebody falls in love, all the wits seem to dribble out of the bottom of his head.

Exaggerating?" Silk sounded shocked. "You don't mean to say that horses can actually lie, do you? Hettar shrugged. "Of course. They lie all the time. They're very good at it." For a moment Silk looked outraged at the thought, and then he suddenly laughed. "Somehow that restores my faith in the order of the universe," he declared. Wolf looked pained. "Silk," he said pointedly, "you're a very evil man. Did you know that?" "One does one's best," Silk replied mockingly.

Someday you'll have to show me how you did that," Asharak was saying. "I found the experience interesting. My horse had hysterics, however." "My apologies to your horse.