“How is a man fortunate to live in the darkness, brother?""Why do you wonder?" asked Blaise. "For only he who has lived in darkness truly knows and values the light.”

“Arthur’s fingers tighten on the silver-braided hilt: see how naturally it fits his hand! He pulls.The Sword of Britain slides from its stone sheath. The ease with which this is accomplished shines in the wonder in Arthur’s eyes. He truly cannot believe what he has done. Nor can he comprehend what it means.”

“And it came to me while I [Merlin] was singing - watching the ring of faces around the night's fire, their eyes glinting like dark sparks, gazing raptly as the song kindled and took light in their souls - it came to me that the way to men's souls was through their hearts, not through their minds. As much as a man might be convinced in his mind, as long as his heart remained unchanged all persuasion would fail. The surest way to the heart is through song and story: a single tale of high and noble deeds spoke to men more forcefully than all of blessed Dafyd's homilies.I do not know why this should be, but I believe it to be true. I have seen the humble folk crowd into the chapel in the wood to receive the mass. In all sincerity they kneel before the holy altar, mute, reverent, as they should be, but also uncomprehending.Yet, I have seen the eyes of their souls awaken when Dafyd reads out, "Listen, in a far country there lived a king who had two sons..."Perhaps it is how we are made; perhaps words of truth reach us best through the heart, and stories and songs are the language of the heart.”

“To friends! Life belongs to those who love, and where love reigns is man truly king!”

“The Emrys! The Emrys is here!' Merlin shook his head in astonishment. 'Has it come to this?' he wondered. 'Even small children know me by sight.”

“That Arthur has not always existed seems odd to me. Like the wind on the moors and the wild winter stars, surely he has always lived . . . and always will.”

“I know nothing of any phantom,' replied Aethelfrith. 'What sort of phantom is it presumed to be?''Why,' replied the merchant, 'it takes the form of a great giant of a bird. Men hereabouts call it King Raven.''Do they indeed?' wondered the friar, much intrigued. 'What does it look like - this giant bird?'The merchant stared at him in disbelief. 'By the rood, man! Are you dim? It looks like a thumping great raven.”