It's Gaudy, Ugly, And In Terribly Bad

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.

Isn't It Easier To Forgive Than To Hate? Until We Learn How To Forgive, That Sort Of Thing Is Going To Keep On Happening." He Pointed At The Tall Pillars Of Smoke Rising To The North. "hate Is A Sterile Thing, Belgarion.

One Of The Less Attractive Aspects Of Human Nature Is Our Tendency To Hate The People We Haven't Treated Very Well; It's Much Easier Than Accepting Guilt. If We Can Convince Ourselves That The People We Betrayed Or Enslaved Were Subhuman Monsters In The First Place, Then Our Guilt Isn't Nearly So Black As We Secretly Know That It Is. Humans Are Very, Very Good At Shifting Blame And Avoiding Guilt.

I Must Admit That I Haven't Heard Of The Duchess Of Erat Before." "you're A Fortunate Man," Wolf Said. "she's A Great Beauty," The Man Said Admiringly. "and Has A Temper To Match," Wolf Told Him. "i Noticed That," The Guard Said. "we Noticed You Noticing," Silk Told Him Slyly.

Whatever Happened To Him?" Silk Asked. "he Went Swimming In The Nedrane." "i Didn't Know That Thulls Swam All That Well." "they Don't–particularly Not With Large Rocks Tied To Their Feet.