“Harper to your word be trueHolder, crafter you also hewTo honesty, integrity, and respectAll others without regard to intellect”

“Harper, treat your words with careFor they may cause joy or despairSing your songs of health and loveOf dragons flaming from above”

“Harper, your song has a sorrowful sound,Though the tune was written as gay.Your voice is sad and your hands are slowAnd your eye meeting mine turns away.”

“Rider to your mate be trueFollow heart in deed and doAll the best your strength can findSo you will rest in heart and mind”

“Look around you, Lessa of Pern, look around the Weyr with unveiled eyes. Old and hallowed is the Weyr? Yes, but shabby and worn – and disregarded. Yes, you were elated to sit in the Weyrwoman’s great chair at the Council Table, but the padding is thin and the fabric dusty. Humbled to think your hands rest where Moreta’s and Torene’s had rested? Well, the stone is ingrained with dirt and needs a good scrubbing. And your rump may rest where theirs did – but that’s not where you have your brains.”

“My eyes are green, my hair is silver and I freckle; the rest is subject to change without notice.”

“There's something wrong in not appreciating one's own special abilities, my girl. Find your own limitations, yes, but don't limit yourself with false modesty.”