Their horses were of great stature, strong and clean-limbed; their gray coats glistened, their long tails flowed in the wind, their manes were braided on their proud necks.

Nobody believes me when I say that my long book is an attempt to create a world in which a form of language agreeable to my personal aesthetic might seem real. But it is true.

He found himself wondering at times, especially in the autumn, about the wild lands, and strange visions of mountains that he had never seen came into his dreams.

May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out.

So fair, so cold; like a morning of pale spring still clinging to winter's chill.

Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens.

After all, I believe that legends and myths are largely made of 'truth'.