Jump blind and you might find yourself on the rim of a raging volcano, or smack in the middle of a battlefield during a savage war, or on a swiftly tilting ice floe in a tempest-tossed sea.

Words are worth little when the heart refuses to hear. Therefore, judge us by our works.

Do not think it impossible just because it has never happened. - Friar Tuck

That Arthur has not always existed seems odd to me. Like the wind on the moors and the wild winter stars, surely he has always lived . . . and always will.

We kissed, then, and the ardour of her kiss stole my breath away. I returned her passion with all the fervor I possessed. A lifetime of vows and heart-felt disciplines had prepared me well, for in that kiss I sealed with all my soul the fate before me, embracing a mystery clothed in warm and yielding female flesh. Holding only the moment, with neither thought nor care for the future, I kissed her, and drank deep the strong wine of desire.

Arthur’s fingers tighten on the silver-braided hilt: see how naturally it fits his hand! He pulls. The Sword of Britain slides from its stone sheath. The ease with which this is accomplished shines in the wonder in Arthur’s eyes. He truly cannot believe what he has done. Nor can he comprehend what it means.

Contrary to what many may think, immortality is not a fairy tale invented to compensate for an unhappy life.