And so, perhaps, the truth winds somewhere between the road to Glastonbury, Isle of the Priests, and the road to Avalon, lost forever in the mists of the Summer Sea.

The visible world was only an imperfect reflection of the Ideal, which the Philosopher sought to transcend.

I never thought that I was very intelligent

Without a dream to light your way, the world is a very dark place.

Morgaine laughed and mocked, but when it was a real trouble, no one could be kinder.

Some knowledge and some song and some beauty must be kept for those days before the world again plunges into darkness.

Lancelot: Morgaine, Morgaine - kinswoman, I have never seen you weep. Morgaine: Are you like so many men, afraid of a woman's tears? (...) Lancelot: No (...) it makes them seem so much more real, so much more vulnerable - women who never weep frighten me, because I know they are stronger than I, and I am always a little afraid of what they will do.