[Shadow]

No not at all. But you can't ask me why I am now suddenly able to play the game. When I gave you the reasons before hand. Now do you want to act pissy. Frankly I don't give a shit. Here enjoy.

[Shadow]

Have you ever noticed that? We base our assessment of the intelligence of others almost entirely on how closely their thinking matches our own. I'm sure that there are people out there who violently disagree with me on most things, and I'm broad-minded enough to conceded that they might possibly not be completely idiots, but I much prefer the company of people who agree with me.
You might want to think about that.”

[Shadow]

“Now do you see why war irritates me? It's always the same. A lot of people get killed, but in the end, the whole thing is settled at the conference table. The notion of having the conference first doesn't seem to occur to people.”

[Shadow]

“There are things we know for certain."
"Oh? Name one."
"The sun's going to come up tomorrow morning."
"Why?"
"It always has."
"Does that really mean that it always will?"
A faint look of consternation crossed her face. "It will, won't it?"
"Probably, but we can't be absolutely certain. Once you've decided that something's absolutely true, you've closed your mind on it, and a closed mind doesn't go anywhere. Question everything, Pol. That's what education's all about.”

[Shadow]

“There's a peculiar dichotomy in the nature of almost anyone who calls himself a historian. Such scholars all piously assure us that they're telling us the real truth about what really happened, but if you turn any competent historian over and look at his damp underside, you'll find a storyteller, and you can believe me when I tell you that no storyteller's ever going to tell a story without a few embellishments. Add to that the fact that we've all got assorted political and theological preconceptions that are going to color what we write, and you'll begin to realize that no history of any event is entirely reliable...”

[Shadow]

My daughter accepted without comment the fact that she wasn't going to age. The peculiar thing about the whole business in her case was the fact that she really didn't. Beldin and the twins and I had all achieved the appearance of a certain maturity. We picked up wrinkles and grey hair and a distinguished look. Pol didn't...I guess a sorcerer is supposed to look distinguished and wise, and that implies wrinkles and grey hair. A woman with grey hair and wrinkles is called a crone, and I don't think Pol would have liked that very much. Maybe we all wound up looking the way we thought we ought to look. My brothers and I thought we should look wise and venerable. Pol didn't mind the wise part, but "venerable" wasn't in her vocabulary. I might want to investigate that someday. The notion that we somehow create ourselves in intriguing.”

[Shadow]

Vanity's ridiculous, be we all fall prey to it from time to time.”

[Shadow]

“When my sons told me about what they'd found, I went to the priests of Belar and had them examine the auguries. This is the year to go. The ice up there won't be as thick again for years and years. Then they cast my own auguries, and from what they say, this could be the most fortunate year in my whole life."
"Do you actually believe that superstitious nonsense?" I demanded. "Are you so gullible that you think that somebody can foretell the future by fondling a pile of sheep guts?"
He looked a little injured. "This was important, Belgarath. I certainly wouldn't trust sheep's entrails for something like this."
"I'm glad to hear that."
"We used a horse instead. Horse guts never lie.”

[Shadow]

...Zedar was gone...As an owl, though, I was able to drift silently from tree to tree until I caught up with him...He wasn't really hard to follow, since he'd conjured up a dim, greenish light to see by --and to hold off the boogiemen. Did I ever tell you that Zedar's afraid of the dark? That adds another dimension to his present situation, doesn't it?
He was bundled to the ears in furs, and he was muttering to himself as he floundered along through the snow. Zedar talks to himself a lot. He always has.
...I drifted to a nearby tree and watched him --owlishly.

Sorry. I couldn't resist that.”

[Shadow]

“When he reached out with both huge hands to grasp me, I ducked under them and stepped forward, smoothly pulling my knife out of my sleeve. Then, with one quick swipe, I sliced him across the belly. I wasn't certain enough of his anatomy to try stabbing him in the heart. As big as he was, his ribs were probably as thick as my wrist.
He stared at me in utter amazement. Then he looked down at the entrails that came boiling out of the gaping wounds that ran from hip to hip across his lower belly.
"I think you dropped something there, Grul," I suggested.
He clutched at his spilling entrails with both hands, a look of consternation on his brutish face. "'Grat cut Grul's belly," he said. "Make Grul's insides fall out."
"Yes, I noticed that. Did you want to fight some more, Grul? I think you could spend your time better by sewing yourself back together. You're not going to be able to move very fast with your guts tangled around your feet."
"'Grat is not nice," he accused mournfully, sitting down and holding his entrails in his lap.”

[Shadow]

..You're going to stay here and help Daran in every way you can. Don't let him sink into melancholia the way his father has...Now, pull yourself together. Blow your nose and fix your face. Daran's talking to the Rivan Warder right now. I'll take you to where they are, and then I have to leave."
"You're not even going to stay for the funeral?"
"I've got the funeral in my heart, Pol, the same as you have. No amount of ceremony's going to make it go away. Now go fix your face. You look awful.”

[Shadow]

“Salmissra was alone and unguarded. The palace eunuchs were sworn to protect her, but evidently a eunuch's oath doesn't mean all that much to him if it's going to involve bleeding.”

[Shadow]

“The Orb is not of itself evil. Evil is a thing that lies only in the hearts and minds of men--and of Gods, also.
--Aldur”

[Shadow]

"You look beautiful, Kalten," she complimented him. "I think you might pass once I rouge your cheeks."
"Absolutely not!" He backed away from her.
"Kalten," she said quite firmly, "sit down." She pointed at a chair and reached for a rouge pot.
"Do I have to?"
"Yes. Now sit."
Kalten looked at Sparhawk. "If you laugh, we're going to fight, so don't even think about it."
"Me?"

[Shadow]

"Did you hang them?" Talen asked fiercely.
"Sephrenia wouldn't let us, so my men gave them a switching instead."
"That's all?"
"They used thorn bushes for switches. Thorns grow very long down here in
Arcium, and I instructed my men to be thorough about it."

[Shadow]

"What was he doing this time?" - Belgarath
"Trying to fly, last time I saw him." - Silk
.."He wasn't doing it very well," - Silk

[Shadow]

"Doesn't she EVER listen to ANYBODY?" the little princess grumbled to
Garion as they rode along behind Aunt Pol and Durnik on the road to Medalia.
"She always listens," Garion replied.
"But she never changes her mind, does she?"
"Not very often- but she DOES listen."

[Shadow]

"Push?" Belgarath said incredulously.
"You said to say push." - Garion
"I said to push. I didn't say to say push."

[Shadow]

“What was that?" Belgarath asked, coming back around the corner.
"Brill," Silk replied blandly, pulling his Murgo robe back on.
"Again?" Belgarath demanded with exasperation. "What was he doing this time?"
"Trying to fly, last time I saw him." Silk smirked.
The old man looked puzzled.
"He wasn't doing it very well," Silk added.
Belgarath shrugged. "Maybe it'll come to him in time."
"He doesn't really have all that much time." Silk glanced out over the edge.
"From far below - terribly far below - there came a faint, muffled crash; then, after several seconds, another. "Does bouncing count?" Silk asked.
Belgarath made a wry face. "Not really."
"Then I'd say he didn't learn in time." Silk said blithely.”

[Shadow]

“I've looked at the world for quite a few years now and I've found that if I don't laugh, I'll probably end up crying."