The Wheel Of A Man's

The Wheel Of Time Turns, And Ages Come And Pass, Leaving Memories That Become Legend. Legend Fades To Myth, And Even Myth Is Long Forgotten When The Age That Gave It Birth Comes Again. In One Age, Called The Third Age By Some, An Age Yet To Come, An Age Long Past, A Wind Rose In The Mountains Of Mist. The Wind Was Not The Beginning. There Are Neither Beginnings Nor Endings To The Turning Of The Wheel Of Time. But It Was A Beginning.

As The Wheel Of Time Turns, Places Wear Many Names. Men Wear Many Names, Many Faces. Different Faces, But Always The Same Man. Yet No One Knows The Great Pattern The Wheel Weaves, Or Even The Pattern Of An Age. We Can Only Watch, And Study, And Hope.

He Is Born Again! I Feel Him! The Dragon Takes His First Breath On The Slope Of Dragonmount! He Is Coming! He Is Coming! Light Help Us! Light Help The World! He Lies In The Snow And Cries Like The Thunder! He Burns Like The Sun!

Two Days' Hunger Made A Fine Sauce For Anything.

Out Of The Night Hopper Came, And Perrin Was One With The Wolf. Hopper, The Cub Who Had Watched The Eagles Soar, And Wanted So Badly To Fly Through The Sky As The Eagles Did. The Cub Who Hopped And Jumped And Leaped Until He Could Leap Higher Than Any Other Wolf, Who Never Lost The Cub's Yearning To Soar Through The Sky. [...] Something Crashed Into His Head, And As He Fell, He Did Not Know If It Was Hopper Or Himself Who Died.