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!

Behold Vo Mimbre," Mandorallen proclaimed with pride, "queen of cities. Upon that rock the tide of Angarak crashed and recoiled and crashed again. Upon this field met they their ruin. The soul and pride of Arendia doth reside within that fortress and the power of the Dark One may not prevail against it." "We've been here before, Mendorallen," Mister Wolf said sourly.

The dullest man in the world is charming beyond belief when he's pouring gold coins from one hand to the other.

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.

...Zedar was gone...As an owl, though, I was able to drift silently from tree to tree until I caught up with him...He wasn't really hard to follow, since he'd conjured up a dim, greenish light to see by --and to hold off the boogiemen. Did I ever tell you that Zedar's afraid of the dark? That adds another dimension to his present situation, doesn't it? He was bundled to the ears in furs, and he was muttering to himself as he floundered along through the snow. Zedar talks to himself a lot. He always has. ...I drifted to a nearby tree and watched him --owlishly. Sorry. I couldn't resist that.

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.

It's one of the advantages of being a woman. I get to do all sorts of unfair things, and you have to accept them because you're too polite not to. --Polgara