Yet, there was once a king worthy of that name. That king was Arthur. It is paramount disgrace of this evil generation that the name of that great king is no longer spoken aloud except in derision. Arthur! He was the fairest flower of our race, Cymry's most noble son, Lord of the Summer Realm, Pendragon of Britain. He wore God's favour like a purple robe. Hear then, if you will, the tale of a true king.

I will weep no more for the lost, asleep in their water graves.

Early man recognised these lines of force and marked them out on the landscape with, well, any old thing, really standing stones, ditches, mounds, tumps, sacred wells, and that sort of thing. And, later on, with churches, market crosses, crossroads, and whatnot.

She [Mérian] shook her head sadly. 'What Bran wants is impossible.' 'Well,' I [Will] said, 'I wouldn't be too sure. I have seen the lone canny fox outwit the hunter often enough to know that it matters little how many horses and men you have. All the wealth and weapons in the world will not catch the fox that refuses to be caught.

Apart from pleasure, beauty also kindles imagination, hope and encouragement. If beauty ceased to exist, we would, in a very real sense, cease to exist--for we would be no longer who we are.

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

The Emrys! The Emrys is here!' Merlin shook his head in astonishment. 'Has it come to this?' he wondered. 'Even small children know me by sight.