But Sure The Eye Of Time Beholds

There Is No Greater Glory That Can Befall A Man That What He Achieves With The Speed Of His Feet Or The Strength Of His Hands.

There Is The Heat Of Love, The Pulsing Rush Of Longing, The Lover’s Whisper, Irresistible—magic To Make The Sanest Man Go Mad.

The Journey Is The Thing.

The Stars Never Lie, But The Astrologers Lie About The Stars.

And By The Sacred Parchment, I Swear That If I Reveal The Secrets Of The Stonecutters, May My Stomach Become Bloated And My Head Be Plucked Of All But Three Hairs