This looks like a job for inadvisably applied magic if ever I saw one.

I don't read an awful lot of fiction and when I do, it tends to be lightweight stuff.

People were stupid, sometimes. They thought the Library was a dangerous place because of all the magical books, which was true enough, but what made it really one of the most dangerous places there could ever be was the simple fact that it was a library.

It was raining in the small, mountainous country of Llamedos. It was always raining in Llamedos. Rain was the country's main export. It had rain mines.

It was nice to hear the voices of little children at play, provided you took care to be far enough away not to hear what they were actually saying.

Building a temple didn't mean you believed in gods, it just meant you believed in architecture.

Perhaps the magic would last, perhaps it wouldn't. But then again, what does?