The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.

Always plan for the worst, child; that way, all your surprises will be pleasant ones.

Remember that any meal can be your last. You chose to travel with us, so tonight you will eat fish. Tomorrow, you may die.

The oak fought the wind and was broken, the willow bent when it must and survived.

When a woman says she will obey you, of her own will, it is time to sleep lightly and watch your back.

Hammer the iron that lies on your anvil instead of daydreaming about working silver.

Juilin," she asked hesitantly, "what were you going to do with the salt and cooking oil? Not exactly," she added more quickly. "Just a general idea." He looked at her for a moment. "I do not know. But they did not, either. That is the trick of it; their minds made up worse then I ever could. I have seen a tough man break when I sent for a basket of figs and some mice.