I Wasn't A Child At 13, Were

Lancelot: Morgaine, Morgaine - Kinswoman, I Have Never Seen You Weep. Morgaine: Are You Like So Many Men, Afraid Of A Woman's Tears? (...) Lancelot: No (...) It Makes Them Seem So Much More Real, So Much More Vulnerable - Women Who Never Weep Frighten Me, Because I Know They Are Stronger Than I, And I Am Always A Little Afraid Of What They Will Do.

And So, Perhaps, The Truth Winds Somewhere Between The Road To Glastonbury, Isle Of The Priests, And The Road To Avalon, Lost Forever In The Mists Of The Summer Sea.

[t]he House Of Maidens Was For Little Girls Whose Whole Duty In Life Was To Spill Things, Break Things, And Forget Things . . . Until They Had Spilled, Broken, And Forgotten Everything They Could, And Thus Made Room In Their Lives For A Little Wisdom.

The Visible World Was Only An Imperfect Reflection Of The Ideal, Which The Philosopher Sought To Transcend.

There Are Ignorant Priests And Ignorant People, Who Are All Too Ready To Cry Sorcery If A Woman Is Only A Little Wiser Than They Are!