-"he Loved Her...it Was Noble

The Muse In Charge Of Fantasy Wears Good, Sensible Shoes. No Foam-born Aphrodite, She Vaguely Resembles My Old Piano Teacher, Who Was Keen On Metronomes.

Trust Your Luck, Taran Wanderer. But Don't Forget To Put Out Your Nets!

It Is Harsh Enough For Each Man To Bear His Own Wound. But He Who Leads Bears The Wounds Of All Who Follow Him.

Go Back' Taran Shouted At The Top Of His Voice.'have You Lost Your Wits?' Eilonwy, For It Was She, Half-halted. She Had Tucked Her Plaited Hair Under A Leather Helmet. The Princess Of Llyr Smiled Cheerfully At Him. 'i Understand You're Upset,' She Shouted Back, 'but That's No Cause To Be Rude.' She Galloped On. For A Time, Taran Could Not Believe He Had Really Seen Her.

A Crown Is More Discomfort Than Adornment. If You Have Learned That, You Have Already Learned Much.