I have a scholar's love of silence and solitude. To sit and pass hour after hour in idle chatter with a roomful of strangers is to me the worst sort of torment.

He hardly ever spoke of magic, and when he did it was like a history lesson and no one could bear to listen to him.

How quickly was every bad thing discovered to be the fault of the previous administration (an evil set of men who wedded general stupidity to wickedness of purpose).

She wore a gown the color of storms, shadows, and rain and a necklace of broken promises and regrets.

And the name of the one shall be Fearfulness. And the name of the other shall be Arrogance... Well, clearly you are not Fearfulness, so I suppose you must be Arrogance.' This was not very polite.

I was told once by some country people that a magician should never tell his dreams because the telling will make them come true. But I say that is great nonsense.

Can a magician kill a man by magic?” Lord Wellington asked Strange. Strange frowned. He seemed to dislike the question. “I suppose a magician might,” he admitted, “but a gentleman never would.