Gillian Bronte Adams

Sometimes there's nothing you can do. Maybe sometimes promises had to be broken. Maybe sometimes you were doomed to failure from the start, no matter how hard you fought. But acknowledging your own helplessness was no consolation - if anything, it just made you feel worse.

Thinking sure could get a fellow in a lot of trouble. Almost as much as opening his big gabber and sticking his muddy foot in it.

They say 'Chaos is the ally of the desperate man,' and I reckon it applies to dwarves and snot-nosed boys too. Let's test is at the front gate, shall we?

There were problems with having a reputation like his. Folks either wanted your hide or wanted you to save theirs. There was never any happy, indifferent middle ground.

But I say that this isn't the Underground. We are the Underground. You . . . me . . . all of your brothers, sisters, friends. This cavern is nothing more than a hole in the ground. We make it something more. No matter where we are, so long as we survive and stick together, the Underground is not lost.

Where are you?_ she whispered. __ave you abandoned us?_..."Listen, little Songkeeper," the voice whispered, and I will sing you a Song.