“To be really honest, I think if anybody did derive comfort from the fact that 'there's always someone worse off than yourself,' they'd have to be a pretty sad and sick individual. If I've sprained my wrist, I'm not made happier by the thought that someone somewhere has broken their leg!”

“I'd never describe even myself as safe when I go into the Magical Realms; no one's safe in there, not even if they're armed and armored with every protective charm on the planet. The place has this habit of changing the rules and pulling the rug from under your feet....""Is it carpeted, then?" asked Tharaman."What?""The Magical Realms, are they carpeted? It's just that you mentioned pulling a rug from somewhere and I just wondered if perhaps...""I think it's a figure of speech, my dear," said Krisafitsa. "I do believe it means to be taken by surprise when you least expect it.""Oh, I see....Odd expression...”

“A conflagration always made such a nice backdrop to a battle. Fire made everything so much more joyously apocalyptic.”

“And exactly how does a miserable face help the war effort?" he asked sharply, his mood beginning to change. "Will a frown bring back the dead or fortify a town? If I allow myself to laugh in the face of misery, I rest my mind from the stress of it all, and then it'll work the better for you and your war. And if I'm really to be one of your advisers, Your Majesty, accept this piece of advise: Take happiness where and when you find it, because there is going to be precious little of it in the next few months!”

“Aren't there going to be any refreshments?" Tharamn interrupted. "I always think better with a little snack to keep me going.""I'm with you there," said Grishmak. "Bring on the nibbles!""There aren't any!" Cressida snapped. "This is all far too important, and besides, once you lot start easting, it'll only turn into a party." "Can't say I have a problem with that myself," said Tharaman. "What about you, Grishy?""None at all. Bit of food and fun helps the boring bits along, in my opinion. Let's call a chamberlain and order some grub.""No!" Cressida insisted. "We all need to concentrate, and I for one find it difficult to think one you and Tharaman start cracking bones and spitting out gristle.""I never spit out gristle!" said Tharaman in miffed tones. "A terrible wast of protein. It just needs a little extra chewing, that's all."Thirrin had watched the exchange in silence, but now she sat forward in her chair. "Actually I wouldn't mind a sandwich myself."Cressida looked at her thunderously.”

“But you are human, and just like the rest of us you have the potential to be both a devil and an angel. There's no such thing as an evil race, just a human race.--Cressida”

“Charlemagne opened his mouth to protest, but immediately snapped it shut and slapped a hand over his nose, a look of disgust on his face. Primplepuss had struck again. Scrambling to his feet, Charlemagne hurried for the door and wrenched it open before glancing back at Maggie. The old man was struggling to escape from beneath the enormous cat's weight. "We can discuss this later, Maggie," he said. "Perhaps tonight, on the battlements, where our thoughts might be clearer." And he hurried off, ignoring Maggie's pleas for help to get the cat off him."Sharley, wait! Give ma a hand! This cat's so heavy --oh, my God! No! How can you smell like that and live? Sharley, help!"An already distance voice floated back into his room. "Sorry, can't stop. I value my nostrils.""Prince Charlemagne, for the love of all that's decent! My God, cat, if we could harness your arse we could repel any invasion! How do you do it?"A small questioning meow was the only reply Maggie received as he flapped a handkerchief under his nose and tried to breath through his mouth without retching.”