SF is the literature of the theoretically possible, and F is the literature of the impossible.
It is the untrustworthy man who distrusts others, because he judges them by himself.
The manifest mind of a woman, he realized, made a great deal of difference in her appeal. Lesson for the day.
Magic was magic. It had no rationale except its own.
If a thing could not be accomplished honestly, probably it wasn’t worth accomplishing at all.
It is not how long one lives, but how well one lives that is important.
He is a parrot legal, one of the few creatures the volcano tolerates near its cone. Perhaps because they are very good at arguing their cases.” “Arguing cases?” she asked blankly. “Parrots are talkative birds, and these ones like to perform legal tasks, though they are neither secretary-birds nor lawyer-birds. They are merely paralegals.
It is possible to differ politically, socially, religiously, or in many other ways, yet to be friends.
At any rate, they got the lead out – but paid a hideous price.
A few are addicted to mud. They wallow in it constantly.” “They can’t have many friends.” “That’s the funny thing! They have almost as many friends as the clean people. The trouble is, the friends are all the same kind of people.
Nuts grow on trees?” the spider inquired dubiously.
Had he known of this on the way over – but of course that was the thing about information. Without it, a person suffered enormous complications.
What do you mean, he?
May those who feel Xanth is sexist have pleasure in this novel, where Mundania is shown to be worse.
Of course. MAN – an acronym.” The mouth on the screen quirked with obscure humor. “Oh? What do the letters stand for?” “Multi-Appendaged-Numbskull, of course. Every creature who is worthy of the title of sapience knows that.
How do you like me now?” she inquired archly. He was cautious. “I thought you didn’t really care for me. Why are you making yourself so lovely?” She grimaced prettily. “I told you my deepest sins, and you didn’t reject me. That’s worth something.
And the worst of it was, Irene could not claim with any certainty that this savage retribution was wrong. She had always thought other people would and should suffer for their callousness, but had never realized that she was as guilty as they and deserved similar treatment.
Our men have aversion spells on their hats,” Gnifty continued. She was really quite talkative, now that the ice had been broken. “So that no big monsters come near, just creatures small enough to be hunted at night. When a dragon is near, they cry, ‘Hang onto your hat!
Oh, yeah?” Grundy cut in. “I happen to know that someone leaked copies of several of those texts to Mundania, including that one, so a whole bunch of people must have seen it!
But the text recorded it as ‘Hell, you’re in my hand’ – an H instead of a W.” Irene grimaced. “You mean everyone who sees that text will believe my husband swore at his sword?” “I’m afraid so,” Chem said apologetically.
The Black Plague!” Niobe exclaimed. “What good did that do?” “It alleviated the European population pressure, decimated the labor force, and-so paved the way for the end of the feudal system,” Satan said. “You can’t keep workers in peonage when there are so few that their value is great.