The Pages of Gup, now that they had talked through everything so fully, fought hard, remained united, support each other when required to do so, and in general looked like a force with a common...

But it's not as simple as that," he told himself, because the dance of the Shadow Warrior showed him that silence had its own grace and beauty {just as speech could be graceless and ugly}; and that...

Africa, have you seen it? No? Then is it truly there?...And the past, did it happen? And the future, will it come? Believe in your own eyes and you'll get into a lot of trouble'.

Happy endings must come at the end of something,' the Walrus pointed out. 'If they happen in the middle of a story, or an adventure, or the like, all they do is cheer things up for a while.'That'll...

They are the Eggheads. He is the Walrus.

They drove past buses that dripped people the way a sponge drips water, and arrived at a thick forest of human beings, a crowd of people sprouting in all directions like leaves on jungle trees.

The black ice of that dark fortress received the sunlight like a mortal wound.

If you want pay, then just be gay.

Hey you, long face,' shouted an elderly gent who must have been at least seventy years old, but who was dancing through the flooded, rainy streets, waving a rolled umbrella like a sword. 'Don't you...

A figure of speech is a shifty thing; it can be twisted or it can be straight.

A little bit of one story joins onto an idea from another, and hey presto, . . . not old tales but new ones. Nothing comes from nothing.

Khattam-Shud,' he said slowly, 'is the Arch-Enemy of all Stories, even of language itself. He is the Prince of Silence and the Foe of Speech. And because everything ends, because dreams end, stories...

Don't you know girls have to fool people every day of their lives if they want to get anywhere?

I always thought storytelling was like juggling {...} You keep a lot of different tales in the air, and juggle them up and down, and if you're good you don't drop any.

Straight answers were beyond the powers of Rashid Khalifa, who would never take a short cut if there was a longer, twistier road available.

Iff replied that the Plentimaw Fishes were what he called 'hunger artists' - 'Because when they are hungry they swallow stories through every mouth, and in their innards miracles occur; a little bit...

All names mean something.

Believe in your own eyes and you'll get into a lot of trouble, hot water, a mess.

It is all for love. Which is a wonderful and dashing matter. But which can also be a very foolish thing.

What's the use of stories that aren't even true?

Any story worth its salt can handle a little shaking up.

Happy endings must come at the end of something,' the Walrus pointed out. 'If they happen in the middle of a story, or an adventure, or the like, all they do is cheer things up for awhile.

He knew what he knew: that the real world was full of magic, so magical worlds could easily be real.

Nothing comes from nothing, Thieflet; no story comes from nowhere; new stories are born from old--it is the new combinations that make them new.