As Long As I Know That My

Contemporary Fantasists All Bow Politely To Lord Tennyson And Papa Tolkien, Then Step Around Them To Go Back To The Original Texts For Inspiration--and There Are A Lot Of Those Texts. We Have King Arthur And His Gang In English; We've Got Siegfried And Brunhild In German; Charlemagne And Roland In French; El Cid In Spanish; Sigurd The Volsung In Icelandic; And Assorted 'myghtiest Knights On Lyfe' In A Half-dozen Other Cultures. Without Shame, We Pillage Medieval Romance For All We're Worth.

Durnik Needs A Tower Somewhere In The Vale," Belgarath Was Saying. "i Don't See Why, Father," Polgara Replied. "all Of Aldur's Disciples Have Towers, Pol. It's The Custom." "old Customs Persist --even When There's No Longer Any Need For Them." "he's Going To Need To Study, Pol. How Can He Possibly Study With You Underfoot All The Time?" She Gave Him A Long, Chilly Stare. "maybe I Should Rephrase That.

My Lord, I Find Thy Face Apelike And Thy Form Misshapen. Thy Beard, Moreover, Is An Offense Against Decency, Resembling More Closely The Scabrous Fir Which Doth Decorate The Hinder Portion Of A Mongrel Dog Than A Proper Adornement For A Human Face. Is It Possible That Thy Mother, Seized By Some Wild Lechery, Did Dally At Some Time Past With A Randy Goat? -mandorallen

Isn't It Odd How The Little Things Can Change A Man's Entire Life?

The Unfortunate Thing About Working For Yourself Is That You Have The Worst Boss In The World. I Work Every Day Of The Year Except At Christmas, When I Work A Half Day.