“We all look. The lucky find. The wise accept.”

“We all look. The lucky find.”

“Maybe we tried so hard to be like the Sisterhood because it was easy for them and we wanted it to be easy for us. Because they were lucky and we wanted to be lucky too. They had wonder, and we didn't have any. We looked for the magic, but we didn't fine it. We waited for the magic, but it didn't find us.”

“In the middle of this journey, we lose a bit of ourselves. We do not know where we are or where we’re headed. We look for directions, seek for guidance, and if we’re lucky, we find it without too much time lost. And if we’re truly lucky, we gain our whole selves back, with an ounce of wisdom on top.”

“How wise should we be if, with joyful certainty, we accepted each unfolding of His will as a proof of His faithfulness and love!”

“My daughter accepted without comment the fact that she wasn't going to age. The peculiar thing about the whole business in her case was the fact that she really didn't. Beldin and the twins and I had all achieved the appearance of a certain maturity. We picked up wrinkles and grey hair and a distinguished look. Pol didn't...I guess a sorcerer is supposed to look distinguished and wise, and that implies wrinkles and grey hair. A woman with grey hair and wrinkles is called a crone, and I don't think Pol would have liked that very much. Maybe we all wound up looking the way we thought we ought to look. My brothers and I thought we should look wise and venerable. Pol didn't mind the wise part, but "venerable" wasn't in her vocabulary. I might want to investigate that someday. The notion that we somehow create ourselves in intriguing.”