The universe lies to our senses and they lie to us, and how can we ourselves be anything but liars? For myself, I trust neither message nor messenger; neither what I am told, nor what I see. There may...
There are people,' he said, 'who give, and there are people who take. There are people who create, people who destroy, and people who don't do anything and drive the other two kinds crazy. It's born i...
This world, that world, doesn't matter. You never make people to see what you see, hear, feel what you feel. Notes don't do it, words don't do it, paints, bronze, marble, nothing. All you can do, you...
What happened instead was that the tree fell in love with him and began to murmur fondly of the joy to be found in the eternal embrace of a red oak. Always, always, it sighed, faithful beyond any man'...
When your life is all taking, what need to learn courtship? Carcharos’s passion for Jassi Belnarak deepened and darkened with every sleepless night, but it did not keep him from understanding that nei...
And even the feral, near-wild Third Cat, whose true name he had never discovered, as one has to do with cats, trailed
I was one of the haves, and one of the secrets of being a have is not wasting your time on empathy.
Ah. My story. Are you certain you wish to hear it? It is long, unlikely, and remarkably unedifying -- shameful, even, to come from a minister's lips. Blasphemous, too, properly regarded.
Any woman can weep without tears, she answered over her shoulder, and most can heal with their hands. It depends on the wound. She is a woman, Your Highness, and that’s riddle enough. But
As to your first question, no cat out of its first fur can ever be deceived by appearances. Unlike human beings, who enjoy them.
Beyond the town, darker than dark, King Haggard's castle teetered like a lunatic on stilts...
But I must go on, said the Lady Amalthea, for it is never finished. Even when I wake, I cannot tell what is real, and what I am dreaming as I move and speak and eat my dinner. I remember what cannot h...
But another sound followed them long after these had faded, followed them into morning on a strange road— the tiny, dry sound of a spider weeping.
Death takes what man would keep, said the butterfly, and leaves what man would lose. Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks. I warm my hands before the fire of life and get four-way relief.
Haggard, I would not be you for all the world, he declared. You have let your doom in by the front door, although it will not depart that way. (...) Farewell, poor Haggard, farewell!
He ran, the unicorn said. You must never run from anything immortal. It attracts their attention. Her voice was gentle, and without pity. Never run, she said. Walk slowly, and pretend to be thinking o...
He wrote a poem about that, about not knowing so many things in a life. The poem was a failure, as far as he was ever concerned; he felt so about most of the poems he wrote during that time. Which was...
Hell of an ornithologist you'd make.
Her neck was long and slender, making her head seem smaller than it was, and the mane that fell almost to the middle of her back was as soft as dandelion fluff and as fine as cirrus. She had pointed e...
How terrible it would be if all my people had been turned human by well-meaning wizards—exiled,
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