“tonight the gars on trees are swords in the hands of knightsthe stars are like twenty-seven dancing russians and the windis”

“Tall ships and tall kingsThree times three,What brought they from the foundered landOver the flowing sea?Seven stars and seven stonesAnd one white tree.(The Two Towers)”

“(Regarding a twenty-questions game:)Did you know that the Russian composer Aram Katchaturian described his ‘Sabre Dance’ as no more than a button on the shirt on the body of his work? No? You’re not alone. Suppose my twenty-questions answer was that metaphorical button — would that be fair?”

“Man’s time is short on the earth, but we trees watch the years march past like days. The stars are motionless to you, but we watch and study the heavens as a dance,” the dryad said,”

“Dance me slowly along a moonlit path,Soaked with light from moon and stars above,Hold my hand and whistle a tune,Dance me slowly to the edge of Love.Waltz here with me on forest grass,Soft ballet pirouettes round sun dappled trees,Hold my hand and hum a tune,Catch my freshly blown kiss off the breeze.”

“Yes," Bitterblue said. "I suppose you could convert everything into minutes. Twelve times sixty is seven hundred twenty, and fifteen times fifty is seven hundred fifty. So our seven-hundred-twenty-minute half day equals its seven-hundred-fifty-minute half day. Let's see...Right now, the watch reads a time of nearly twenty-five past two. That's one hundred twenty-five total minutes, which, divided by seven hundred fifty, should equal our time in minutes divided by seven hundred twenty...so, seven hundred twenty times one hundred twenty-five is...give me a moment...ninety thousand...divided by seven hundred fifty...is one hundred twenty...which means...well! The numbers are quite neat, aren't they? It's just about two o'clock. I should go home.”