Durnik needs a tower somewhere in the Vale," Belgarath was saying. "I don't see why, father," Polgara replied. "All of Aldur's disciples have towers, Pol. It's the custom." "Old customs persist --even when there's no longer any need for them." "He's going to need to study, Pol. How can he possibly study with you underfoot all the time?" She gave him a long, chilly stare. "Maybe I should rephrase that.

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.

I get up at an unholy hour in the morning my work day is completed by the time the sun rises. I have a slightly bad back which has made an enormous contribution to American literature.

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

Isn't it easier to forgive than to hate? Until we learn how to forgive, that sort of thing is going to keep on happening." He pointed at the tall pillars of smoke rising to the north. "Hate is a sterile thing, Belgarion.

Now do you see why war irritates me? It's always the same. A lot of people get killed, but in the end, the whole thing is settled at the conference table. The notion of having the conference first doesn't seem to occur to people.

We're living in momentous times, Garion. The events of a thousand years and more have all focused on these very days. The world, I'm told, is like that. Centuries pass when nothing happens, and then in a few short years events of such tremendous importance take place that the world is never the same again." I think that if I had my choice, I'd prefer one of those quiet centuries," Garion said glumly. Oh, no," Silk said, his lips drawing back in a ferretlike grin. "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.