“His love for her was a gift he gave her daily, expecting nothing in return. He walked at her side, his love for her a torch to guide her footsteps along the dark path she walked.”

“I wanted to tell her that sometimes, in my long sleep, I dreamt of her”

“paithin- ... he is orn! mother peytin's son, come to lead us to safety!"zifnab- thats it! orn, favors his mother-roland- no, he doesnt. look! hes human! wouldnt mother whats- her - name's kid be and elf- wait!i know! he is one of the lords of thillia! come back to us, like the legend foretold!zifnab- that too! i dont know why i didnt recognize him. the spitting image of his father!”

“Words can never fully say what we want them to say, for they fumble, stammer, and break the best porcelain. The best one can hope for is to find along the way someone to share the path, content to walk in silence, for the heart communes best when it does not try to speak.”

“Shuddering Tanis stepped back. Raistlin gave the drawstring on the top of the bag a quick jerk, snapping it shut. Then, glancing at them distrustfully, he slipped the bag within his robes, secreting it in one of his numerous hidden pockets, and begun to turn away. But Tanis stopped him."Things can never again be the same between us, can they?" the half-elf asked quietly.Raistlin looked at him for a moment, and Tanis saw a brief flicker of regret in the young mage's eyes, a longing for trust and friendship and return to the days of youth."No," Raistilin whispered. "But such was the price I paid.”

“Hope is the denial of reality. It is the carrot dangled before the draft horse to keep him plodding along in a vain attempt to reach it." "Are you saying we shouldn't hope?""I'm saying we should remove the carrot and walk forward with our eyes open!”

“Raistlin lay on the floor, his skin white, his breathing shallow. Blood trickled from his mouth. Kneeling down, Caramon lifted him in his arms."Raistlin?" he whispered. "What happened?""That's what happened," Tanis said grimly, pointing.Caramon glanced up, his gaze coming to rest on the dragon orb - now grown to the size Caramon had seen in Silvanesti. It stood on the stand Raistlin had made for it. Caramon sucked in his breath in horror. Terrible visions of Lorac flooded his mind. Lorac insane, dying..."Raist!" he moaned, clutching his brother tightly.Raistlin's head moved feebly. His eyelids fluttered, and he opened his mouth."What?" Caramon bent low, his brother's breath cold upon his skin. "What?""Mine..." Raistlin whispered. "Spells...of the ancients...mine...Mine..." The mage's head lolled, his words died. But his face was calm, placid, relaxed. His breathing grew regular.”