Only A Fool Worries Over What He

Metal Rusts, Music Lasts Forever.

Auri," I Asked Slowly, "are You Joking With Me?" She Looked Up And Grinned. "yes I Am," She Said Proudly. "isn't It Wonderful?

I'm Not Implying That Fantasy Is For Kids. I'm Saying That More And More People Are Finally Realizing That There's More To Fantasy Stories Than Elves And Wizards And Goblin Armies.

After An Awkward Pause, Bast Extended His Hand. Chronicler Hesitated For A Bare Moment Before Reaching Out Quickly, As If He Were Sticking His Hand Into A Fire. Nothing Happened, Both Of Them Seemed Moderately Surprised. "amazing, Isn't It?" Kvothe Addressed Them Bitingly. "five Fingers And Flesh With Blood Beneath. One Could Almost Believe That On The Other End Of That Hand Lay A Person Of Some Sort.

I Have Heard What Poets Write About Women. They Rhyme And Rhapsodize And Lie. I Have Watched Sailors On The Shore Stare Mutely At The Slow-rolling Swell Of The Sea. I Have Watched Old Soldiers With Hearts Like Leather Grow Teary-eyed At Their King's Colors Stretched Against The Wind. Listen To Me: These Men Know Nothing Of Love. You Will Not Find It In The Words Of Poets Or The Longing Eyes Of Sailors. If You Want To Know Of Love, Look To A Trouper's Hands As He Makes His Music. A Trouper Knows.