They suffered from the terrible delusion that something could be done. They seemed prepared to make the world the way they wanted it or die in the attempt, and the trouble with dying in the attempt was that you died in the attempt.

Oh, where are my manners? Do sit down. Pull up a small child.

It's lies. It's all lies. Some of them are just prettier than others, that's all. People see what they think is there.

I meant," said Ipslore bitterly, "what is there in this world that truly makes living worthwhile?" Death thought about it. CATS, he said eventually. CATS ARE NICE.

A weapon you held and didn't know how to use belonged to your enemy.

Now he knew: They were real. Who’d make up a thing like this? Okay, one of them was a cheese that rolled around of its own accord, but nobody was perfect.

After all, when you seek advice from someone it's certainly not because you want them to give it. You just want them to be there while you talk to yourself.