Terence O'Ryan heard him and straightway brought him a crystal cup full of the foaming ebon ale which the noble twin brothers Bungiveagh and Bungardilaun brew ever in their divine alevats, cunning as the sons of deathless Leda. For they garner the succulent berries of the hop and mass and sift and bruise and brew them and they mix therewith sour juices and bring the must to the sacred fire and cease not night or day from their toil, those cunning brothers, lords of the vat.

Children must be educated by love, not punishment.

My words in her mind: cold polished stones sinking through a quagmire.

God made food; the devil the cooks.

Does nobody understand?

The studious silence of the library ... Thought is the thought of thought. Tranquil brightness.

White wine is like electricity. Red wine looks and tastes like a liquified beefsteak.