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that dagger I purchased, for instance. You wonder why I chose the fraudulent over the real? Because of precisely this puzzling divide. The haft is not in the least what it pretends, being more beautiful than the reality it imitates; while the blade is as honest and moral and straightforward as any blade could possibly be. Are the two, together, a truth unspoken or a lie concealed? Without the lure of that charming handle, would anyone have picked up the dagger at all? And without the truehearted blade, would anyone hold it for more than a moment? I ponder such matters.
because he is a man, and men believe themselves to be all straight lines and right angles—an illusion you will find it important to allow them, though in fact they are as hopelessly snarled as a ball of yarn after a cat gets through playing with it. Part of their charm, my own mother always said, and I have lived
“My mother, sometimes she says that everybody in the world is a donkey with the heart of a lion. Everybody. Only most people don’t ever discover it—they don’t have to, they get along all right just being donkeys. But it’s there, always, if you really need it. If you really want to find it. If you look for it. I think that’s what he’s doing, Prince Reginald.”
“Robert, my one companion, love of my life forever, ‘let’ is not a word you will use to me again.”
The morning sun, as golden as the King dragon’s scales, warmed the backs of their necks.
