“We could have chopped down the sycamore with this...”

“Are you going to go down on your knees and beg for your life, old one?" Abbot Mortimer stared calmly into Cluny's savage eye. "I will never bend my knee on my own behalf. However, if I thought I could save the life of one of my friends I would gladly fall down on both knees. But I know you, Cluny, better than you know yourself. There is not a scrap of pity or mercy in your heart, only a burning desire for vengeance. Therefore, I will not kneel to one who is consumed by evil.”

“The Land of Dreams, that mystical realm,where the oddest of visions appear,come wander through scenes of joyful peace, or stampeded through nightmares of fear. Dare we open those secret doors,down dusty paths of mind,in long-forgotten corners, what memories we'll find.Who rules o'er the Kingdom of Night,where all is not what it seems?'Tis I, the Weaver of Tales,for I am the Dreamer of Dreams!”

“He came with death held in his pawWhich no rat born could faceOh woe to those who break the lawOf Sunflash and his mace!”

“Sala-manda-stron, look out here we come,A thief a warrior and a mole.Though the quest may take its toll,We'll march until we reach our goal,”

“Death comes to us all sooner or later. We cannot escape it.”

“ Boorab's spear was a window pole. He stood on the second step, barring their way. "Who goes there? State y'business, wot?" Brother Hoben tapped an impatient paw on the bottom step. "Come out of the way, please. We'ew going to the walltop." The hare twitched his whiskers officiously. "No Dibbuns allowed up here. You're not Dibbuns, are you?" Cregga took hold of the window pole he was clasping and lifted both Boorab and the pole, with one paw, down onto the grass. "Do we look like Dibbuns? Don't try my patience, sah!" "Just doin' one's duty," he muttered up the steps after them, somewhat creastfallen. "I was only asking a civil question, wot. Humph, some creautres!”