Orma moved a pile of books off a stool for me but seated himself directly on another stack. This habit of his never ceased to amuse me. Dragons no longer hoarded gold; Comonot's reforms had outlawed it. For Orma and his generation, knowledge was treasure. As dragons through the ages had done, he gathered it and then he sat on it.

The truth may not be told. Here is an acceptable lie.

Did I become court composer through masterful procrastination? Hardly!

If I could keep a single moment for all time, that would be the one. I became the very air; I was full of stars.

I barely noticed loneliness anymore; it was my normal condition, by necessity if not by nature.

Metaphor is awkward, but emotion, by its nature, leaves you no more scalable approach.

Was it probably true that reasoning beings were equal? It seemed more like a belief than a fact, even if I agreed with it. If you followed logic all the way back to its origin, did you inevitably end up at point of illogic, an article of faith?