Courage And Folly Are Cousins, Or So

Pyp Had Stabbed A Turnip With His Knife. "the Night Is Dark And Full Of Turnips," He Announced In A Solemn Voice. "let Us All Pray For Venison, My Children, With Some Onions And A Bit Of Tasty Gravy.

I Knew That, When Writing A Book, You're Not Constrained By A Budget. You're Not Constrained By What You Can Do, In Terms Of The Special Effects Technology. You're Not Limited To Any Particular Running Time.

If H. P. Lovecraft And H. L. Mencken Had Ever Collaborated, They Might Have Come Up With Something Like The Edge Of Reason. This One Will Delight Thinkers-and Outrage True Believers-of All Stripes.

He Drew The Dagger And Laid It On The Table Between Them; A Length Of Dragonbone And Valyrian Steel, As Sharp As The Difference Between Right And Wrong, Between True And False, Between Life And Death.

Nobody Likes Cravens,” He Said Uncomfortably. “i Wish We Hadn’t Helped Him. What If They Think We’re Craven Too?” "you're Too Stupid To Be Craven,” Pyp Told Him. “i Am Not,” Grenn Said. “yes You Are. If A Bear Attacked You In The Woods, You’d Be Too Stupid To Run Away.” “i Would Not,” Grenn Insisted. “i’d Run Away Faster Than You.” He Stopped Suddenly, Scowling When He Saw Pyp’s Grin And Realized What He’d Just Said.