One magician demanded I show him an image of the love of his life. I rustled up a mirror.

Literature offers the thrill of minds of great clarity wrestling with the endless problems and delights of being human. To engage with them is to engage with oneself, and the lasting rewards are not confined to specific career paths.

Watch where you leave your victims! I stubbed my toe on that.

What is a gathering without unseemly drunkenness?

Then again, Solomon was human. And that meant he was flawed (Go on, take a look at yourself in the mirror. A good long look, if you can bear it. See? Flawed's putting it mildly, isn't it?)

That's a gesture of endearment in some cultures. Some hug, some kiss, some set each other on fire in small patches of woodland

The column hung above the middle of the pentacle, bubbling ever upward against the ceiling like the cloud of an erupting volcanoe. There was a barely perceptible pause. Then two yellow staring eyes materialized in the heart of the smoke. Hey, it was his first time. I wanted to scare him. And it did, too.