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Odd, how different different men’s fears could be.
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Who knew? If the illusion is quite perfect, who is to say it is not real?
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Sickness, the serpent, is coming to bite you,Death, the old dark man, is coming to carry you off,Rest uneasy, you stinking carrion, on your gold beds.
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Thinta flew safely, and I realized how much I preferred being with Hergal and feeling the blood drain out of my head with fright. Actually when I’m with Hergal I always realize how much I prefer being with Thinta and not feeling the blood drain out of my head with fright.
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'I have a plan,' said Xaros, 'improbable only in its genius.'
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Dust had dimmed only a fraction, not enough. Decay had brushed with its rotten fingers not nearly all it should. It was an enchanted sweet, stuck in the throat of time.
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'What’s Hell?' inquired Wild-Eye. 'You should visit before you pass judgement on a place. And have you never heard it said, the Dark One is a gentleman?'
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Somewhere in me was a rod of steel to which I clung. I’d had a vision, as good as any vision given to any poet, sage, or prophet in the past. I wasn’t elated, I wasn’t confident even, but somehow, I knew, and with the end of doubt had come the death of despair.
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A few old men began to say there had been a winter like this when they were warriors, and that it was a year of catastrophe and disappointment. But old men will ever spin this wheel. The summers were always hotter and the winters colder in the days of their strength, and the air thick with epic drama and portent.
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Night, the dark widow, came walking on the hills.
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The sea was a phenomenon I had never clapped eyes on for myself, yet it seemed, from the tales, a destination ultimate and uncompromising. The ocean’s edge, the brink of the land; the lip of Chaos.
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There was no room in him for curiosity; The capacity for observation had long since starved on the aridness of his soul.
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Spells are words, and words are merely noises. You are the sorceress, not your instruction. Don’t limit yourself.
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Anyhow, I arrived, and I did feel pretty weird, actually, as if I’d left something behind. My head or something.