David Eddings

When father uses the word 'politics' he's talkingabout relations between nations. When I use the word, though, I'mtalking about the various subtle ways a woman can get men to dowhat she wants them to do.

It's all very well to put the government in the hands of the perfect man, but what do you do when the perfect man gets a bellyache?

I wouldn't do that," Silk advised. "Thinking about it isn't going to help, and it's only going to make you nervous.""Nervouser," Garion corrected. "I'm already nervous.""Is there such a word as "'nervouser'?" Silk asked Belgarath curiously. "There is now," Belgarath replied. "Garion just invented it.""I wish I could invent a word," Silk said admiringly to Garion.

This is Trenicia, the queen of the warrior women of the Isle of Akalla. Different places have different traditions and different customs. On the Isle of Akalla, the women rule, and the women do the fighting.""What do the men do?" the horseman Ekial asked curiously."As little as they possibly can," the warrior woman said in a sardonic tone. "Over the years, they__e foisted just about everything off on us. We have to grow the food, hunt the meat, and fight the wars. The men sit around getting fat and arguing with each other about something they call_'philosophy' - most of which is pure nonsense.

The men sit around getting fat and arguing with each other about something they call __hilosophy_ - most of which is pure nonsense.

A man should never miss an opportunity to keep his mouth shut.

I thought the trees down in Lady Zelana__ country were about as big as a tree could get,_ he said, __ut the ones around here are so tall that they probably tickle the moon__ tummy when she goes by.

It keeps him happy, Dahlaine, and happy people are nicer than gloomy ones. Haven't you noticed that before?

The place had enormous possibilities. He realized that at once. The stream, of course, was perfect for sailing toy boats, for skipping stones, and, in the event of failing inspiration, for falling into. Several of the trees appeared to have been specifically designed for climbing, and one huge, white old birch overhanging the stream promised the exhilarating combination of climbing a tree and falling into the water, all at one time.

What was that?" Belgarath asked, coming back around the corner."Brill," Silk replied blandly, pulling his Murgo robe back on."Again?" Belgarath demanded with exasperation. "What was he doing this time?""Trying to fly, last time I saw him." Silk smirked.The old man looked puzzled."He wasn't doing it very well," Silk added.Belgarath shrugged. "Maybe it'll come to him in time.""He doesn't really have all that much time." Silk glanced out over the edge."From far below - terribly far below - there came a faint, muffled crash; then, after several seconds, another. "Does bouncing count?" Silk asked.Belgarath made a wry face. "Not really.""Then I'd say he didn't learn in time." Silk said blithely.

We call this a __ow_, Cap__, and the thing that__ sticking out of that fellow__ head over on the other side of the trench is called an __rrow_. If you put them together just right, they__l do all sorts of nice things to people who aren__ nice.

Garion,' she said very calmly, 'the universe knew your name before that moon up there was spun out of the emptiness. Whole constellations have been waiting for you since the beginning of time.'I didn't want them to, Aunt Pol.'There are those of us who aren't given that option, Garion. There are things that gave to be done and certain people who have to do them. It's as simple as that.'He smiled rather sadly at her flawless face and gently touched the snowy white lock at her brow. Then, for the last time in his life, he asked the question that had been on his lips since he was a tiny boy. 'Why me, Aunt Pol? Why me?'Can you possibly think of anyone else you'd trust to deal with these matters, Garion?'He had not really been prepared for that question. It came at him in stark simplicity. Now at last he fully understood. 'No,' he sighed, 'I suppose not. Somehow it seems a little unfair, though. I wasn't even consulted.'Neither was I, Garion,' she answered. 'But we didn't have to be consulted, did we? The knowledge of what we have to do is born into us.

The old man was peering intently at the shelves. 'I'll have to admit that he's a very competent scholar.'Isn't he just a librarian?' Garion asked, 'somebody who looks after books?'That's where all the rest of scholarship starts, Garion. All the books in the world won't help you if they're just piled up in a heap.

Sorgan tried his very best not to think about how long it must have taken for a stream that small to eat its way down through solid rock to form its current bed. Sorgan knew exactly what the word __undred_ meant, but when numbers wandered off toward __housand___r even __illion___nd the people who used those terms were talking about years, Sorgan__ mind shied back in horror.

When you get down to the bottom of it, only about half of what we remember really happened. We tend to modify things to make ourselves look better in our own eyes and in the eyes of others. Then, if what we did wasn't really very admirable, we tend to forget that it ever happened. A normal human being's grasp on reality is very tenuous at best. Our imaginary lives are usually much nicer.

God save us from religion.

Once you've decided that something's absolutely true, you've closed your mind on it, and a closed mind doesn't go anywhere. Question everything. That's what education's all about.

I get up at an unholy hour in the morning my work day is completed by the time the sun rises. I have a slightly bad back which has made an enormous contribution to American literature.