“Who owns a man, Durnik?” the blond young man asked sadly. “The one who rules him, or the one who pays him?”

“Zakath's face grew thoughtful. "You know something, Garion?" he said. "Man thinks he owns the world, but we share it with all sorts of creatures who are indifferent to our overlordship. They have their own societies, and I supposed even their own cultures. They don't even pay attention to us, do you?""Only when we inconvenience them...It teaches us humility," Garion agreed.”

“Heroes aren't allowed to be nervous.""Who made up that rule?""It's a known fact...”

“The old man was peering intently at the shelves. 'I'll have to admit that he's a very competent scholar.'Isn't he just a librarian?' Garion asked, 'somebody who looks after books?'That's where all the rest of scholarship starts, Garion. All the books in the world won't help you if they're just piled up in a heap.”

“I must admit that I haven't heard of the Duchess of Erat before.""You're a fortunate man," Wolf said."She's a great beauty," the man said admiringly."And has a temper to match," Wolf told him."I noticed that," the guard said."We noticed you noticing," Silk told him slyly.”

“It's the nature of man to ask questions.--Belgarath”

“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.”