...it's as empty as a merchant's soul. Sorry, Kheldar, it's just an old expression." "That's all right, Beldin," Silk forgave him grandly. "These little slips of the tongue are common in the very elderly.

What happened to your foot?" "I had a little disagreement with an eagle --stupid birds, eagles. He couldn't tell the difference between a hawk and a pigeon. I had to educate him. He bit me while I was tearing out a sizable number of his wing feathers." "Uncle," Polgara said reproachfully. "He started it.

Don’t be afraid to discard work you know isn’t up to standard. Don’t save junk, just because it took you a long time to write it.

...I made some more threats. I've got this big knife back here." He poked his thumb over his shoulder. "It attracts a lot of attention sometimes.

Nothing that ever happens is so unimportant that it doesn't change things.

It's gaudy, ugly, and in terribly bad taste. It does, however, suit my personality almost perfectly.

It's only a story, isn't it?"... "Who's to say what's only a story and what's truth disguised as a story?