“Arthur without Excalibur was still Arthur.”

“I don’t have my knife,” I mumble. “Don’t start that,” Anna says. She walks away from me sharply. “Arthur without Excalibur was still Arthur.”

“No empieces con eso”, dice Anna. Ella se aleja de mí drásticamente. “Arturo sin Excalibur, todavía era Arturo”.”

“Stand my ground, is what I think. After this is over, I might puke. Assuming, of course, that I’m still alive.”

“Every time I question him about the feasibility, he smiles at me like he's Yoda and I'm just a dumbass without the Force.”

“Without a word, we start to walk together down the long hall. I'm so pent up and irritated with this place; I want to kick down the closed doors and break up a prayer circle, maybe juggle the athame with a couple of candles just to see the horrified looks on their faces and hear their screams of "Sacrilege!”

“As we look at each other, something inside me is trying to click, trying to fall into place. I feel it in my mind and in my chest, like a puzzle piece you know has to go somewhere so you keep trying to push it in from all different angles. And then, just like that, it fits. So perfect and complete that you can't imagine how it was without it there, even seconds ago.”