Michael J. Sullivan

Sometimes the price of dreams is achieving them.

When you are so ashamed of your actions, thoughts, or intentions, you lie rather than accepting yourself for who you really are__r, in this case, pretend something happened when it didn__. The idea of how others see you becomes more important than the reality of you.

I am officially turning him over to you. He's your problem now. You'll have to watch out for him and that won't be easy. He's naive, gullible, immature, horribly unsophisticated, ignorant about anything worth knowing, and idealistic to a fault." He paused to make a show of thinking harder. "He's also indecisive, pathetically honest, a horrible liar, and too virtuous for words. He gets up twice each night to relieve himself, wads his clothes rather than folds them, chews with his mouth open, and talks with his mouth full. He has a nasty habit of cracking his knuckles every morning at breakfast, and, of course, he snores. To remedy that, just put a rock under his blanket.

Royce looked back down at the stream below. "She doesn't even know me. What if she doesn't like me? Few people do.""She might not at first. Maribor knows I didn't. But you have a way of growing on a person." He smiled. "You know, like lichen or mold.

You can go back to blacksmithing in Hintindar and live a quiet happy life. Do me a favor and marry some pretty farm girl and train your son to beat the crap out of imperial knights.""Sure," Hadrian told him. "And with any luck he'll make friends with a cynical burglar who'll do nothing but torment him.

We may indeed die here, that's true. But we will all die anyway-is there any denying that? When you think of all the possible ways you might go, this is as fine a place as any, isn't it? I mean, to end one's life surrounded by friends, in a comfortable, dry room with plenty to read... that doesn't sound too awful, does it?""What is the advantage of fear, or the benefit of regret, or the bonus of granting misery a foothold even if death is embracing you? My old abbot used to say, 'Life is only precious if you wish it to be.' I look at it like the last bite of a wonderful meal-do you enjoy it, or does the knowledge that there is no more to follow make it so bitter that you would ruin the experience?" The monk looked around, but no one answered him. "If Maribor wishes for me to die, who am I to argue? After all, it is he who gave me life to begin with. Until he decides I am done, each day is a gift granted to me, and it would be wasted if spent poorly. Besides, for me, I've learned that the last bite is often the sweetest.

When you expect nothing from the world - not the light of the sun, the wet of water, nor the air to breathe - everything is a wonder and every moment a gift.

Slaying dragons, melting witches, and banishing demons is all fun and games until someone loses a sidekick__hen it__ personal. The bad guy isn__ just the __ad guy_ anymore, he__ the BAD GUY!

That night there was more than one killer in the forest, the next day a lot more ghosts.--The Book of Brin

It's easier to believe the most outlandish lie that confirms what you suspect than the most obvious truth that denies it.

I swear, the reason for full moons is so the gods can more clearly see the mischief they create.

If anyone had asked Royce Melborn what he hated most at that moment, he would__e said dogs. Dogs and dwarves topped his list, both equally despised for having so much in common__ach was short, vicious, and inexcusably hairy.

I notice you didn__ include a blade with your new attire,_ Royce said. __ot even a little jeweled dagger.___ords no._ Albert looked appalled. __ don__ fight.___ thought all nobles learned sword fighting._ Royce looked to Hadrian.__ thought so too.___obles with competent fathers perhaps. I spent my formative years at my aunt__ at Huffington Manor. She held a daily salon, where a dozen noble ladies came to discuss all manner of philosophical topics, like how much they hated their husbands. I__e never actually held a sword, but I can tie a mean corset and apply face paint like a gold-coin whore.

Always remember that the tales of another are never as wondrous as your own.

What's the advantage of fear or the benefit of regret or the bonus of granting misery a foothold even if death is embracing you? My old abbot used to say, "Life is only precious if you wish it to be." I look at it like the last bite of a wonderful meal. Do you enjoy it, or does the knowledge that there is no more to follow make it so bitter that you would ruin the experience? - Myron on facing death

Hatred. Some people get filled with it and explode. If they survive, they move on. Others just let it dribble out over the years, like a leaky bucket. One day they notice the bucket is empty, and they wonder what had been in it in the first place. Still others use hatred as a weapon, going so far as to pass it onto others__n ugly, unwanted gift disguised as a virtuous heirloom.

That's the thing about hatred, it can become rancid, and it'll turn into poison if you keep it bottled too long. Hatred will eat through any container and seep into the groundwater of a soul. Revenge is never enough to expel it because it keeps bubbling up anew. What you don't realize__an't really__s that by that time, it's all you are. You don't have the hate in you. The hate is you. When that wine is consumed, you won't ever be able to rid yourself of it. Can't vomit it up or spit it out. It'd be as impossible as escaping yourself.

Sharks don__ eat seafood because they like it, but because chicken can__ swim.