If the liberal arts do nothing else they provide engaging metaphors for the thinking they displace.

I watched the spinning stars, grateful, sad and proud, as only a man who has outlived his destiny and realizes he might yet forge himself another, can be.

Death is the only limit to the road you travel.

A powerful flight of the imagination . . . an entirely enjoyable reading experience, wrought by a pair of writers noted for excellence.

The universe did not invent justice. Man did. Unfortunately, man must reside in the universe.

The day of battle dawned pink as the fresh-bitten thigh of a maiden.

I know, too, that death is the only god who comes when you call.