Sometimes, life threw up problems that even the wisest, most trusted mentor couldn't solve for you. It was part of the pain of growing up. And having to stand by and watch was part of being a mentor.

[Will]'d barely been asleep a few minutes when Halt's voice woke him. 'Will? Are you asleep?'... 'I was,' he said, a little indignantly. 'I'm not now.' 'Good,' Halt replied, a trifle smugly. 'Serves you right.

Tug looked nervously at his master. Horses aren't supposed to fly, he seemed to be saying.

Men... performed better when they understood why they were being asked to carry out a task.

You spoil your horse, Halt said. Will glanced at him. You spoil yours. Halt considered the thought, then nodded. That's true.

He'd just have to lie there and die, watched over by strange stars who didn't know him, didn't care for him. It was very sad, really.

Halt! How are you? What have you been doing? Where's Abelard? How's Crowley? What's this all about?" "I'm glad to see you rate my horse more important than our Corps Commandant," Halt said, one eyebrow rising in the expression that Will knew so well. Early in their relationship, he had thought it was an expression of displeasure. He had learned years ago that it was, for Halt, the equivalent of a smile.