You're A Cynic," Urgit Accused.

Contemporary Fantasists All Bow Politely To Lord Tennyson And Papa Tolkien, Then Step Around Them To Go Back To The Original Texts For Inspiration--and There Are A Lot Of Those Texts. We Have King Arthur And His Gang In English; We've Got Siegfried And Brunhild In German; Charlemagne And Roland In French; El Cid In Spanish; Sigurd The Volsung In Icelandic; And Assorted 'myghtiest Knights On Lyfe' In A Half-dozen Other Cultures. Without Shame, We Pillage Medieval Romance For All We're Worth.

Once You've Decided That Something's Absolutely True, You've Closed Your Mind On It, And A Closed Mind Doesn't Go Anywhere. Question Everything. That's What Education's All About.

Start Early And Work Hard. A Writer's Apprenticeship Usually Involves Writing A Million Words (which Are Then Discarded) Before He's Almost Ready To Begin. That Takes A While.

The First Thing The Boy Garion Remembered Was The Kitchen At Faldor's Farm. For All The Rest Of His Life He Had A Special Warm Feeling For Kitchens And Those Peculiar Sounds And Smells That Seemed Somehow To Combine Into A Bustling Seriousness That Had To Do With Love And Food And Comfort And Security And, Above All, Home. No Matter How High Garion Rose In Life, He Never Forgot That All His Memories Began In That Kitchen.

I Thought You Said You Were The One In Charge!" Ce'nedra Exclaimed. I Lied." Silk Said. "it's A Vice I Have.