The freedom to swing your fist ends at my nose.

Three things trust and cherish well- The horse on which you ride, The beast that guards and watches, And your shield-mate at your side.

The great love is gone. There are still little loves - friend to friend, brother to sister, student to teacher. Will you deny yourself comfort at the hearthfire of a cottage because you may no longer sit by the fireplace of a palace? Will you deny yourself to those who reach out to you in hopes of warming themselves at your hearthfire?

Caught between glass and wood, that which breaks and that which bends, that which sings and that which survive. So our lives go.

It's only gossip if you repeat it. Until then, it's gathering information.

We're none of us quite so sure of our place in the world that we can't be rocked off our feet by bad times. It's the getting back up again that counts. Not that you fall, but getting back up again counts for more in the long run.

If they projected the fact that they are dangerous any harder, there would be little puddles of "danger" on the floor around them. Look, it's "danger", don't step in it!