But sometimes the best help a person can find is helping someone else.

If I could sum it up in 50 words, I wouldn't have needed to write a whole novel about it.

I believe it, Chronicler found himself thinking. Before it was just a story, but now I can believe it. This is the face of a man who has killed an angel.

Over his own dark Cealdish beard. "Nothing like your marvelous facebear.

It was the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who is waiting to die.

You do not know the first note of the music that moves me.

Remember this son, if you forget everything else. A poet is a musician who can't sing. Words have to find a man's mind before they can touch his heart. And, some men's minds are woeful small targets. Music touches their hearts directly, no matter how small or stubborn the mind of the man who listens.