“great gandalfs ghost!
if he had a ghost. i doubt it. he was such a snob...”
“my dragon? save anybody?
you must have have him confused with someone else- Smaug perhaps?...”
“get back, get back! ill turn you into a piglet!
ast a bula- no wait. that turns ME into a piglet!!”
“you wouldn't happen to have a pipe and a bit of tobacco about, would-
i heard that!
gandalf enjoyed a good pipe!
why do you think he's called gandalf the gray? it wasn't for the color of his robes”
“ignition! blast off!!! the vessel needs a new name! something more appropriate to a starship.
apollo? gemini? enterprise. already taken.
millennium falcon. trademarked. all rights reserved.
no! wait, i have it! dragin star! thats it! dragon star!”
“its like you said? i lead my people-"
forth!" zifnab carried on enthusiastically! " out of eygpt! out of bondage! across the desert! pillar of fire-"
desert?" lenthan looked anxious again. "fire? i thought we were going to the stars!"
sorry. wrong script" zifnab said”
“over protective? a butler in a grade- B movie? someones jewish mother? you got it”
“Magic is the recognition of the fire burning behind us when all else see only their own shadow on the wall.”
“Say that we’re moving at the speed of light.… Impossible, of course, if you believe physicists. Which I don’t, by the way. Physicists don’t believe in wizards—a fact that I, being a wizard, find highly insulting. I have taken my revenge, therefore, by refusing to believe in physicists. What was the question?”
“for not even the most powerful runes ever traced upon a body could guard against love’s insidious poison.”
“The old dwarf drew himself up. His height was no longer impressive: the bowed back would not straighten, the legs could no longer support the body without assistance. But Drugar, towering over his father, saw the dignity in the trembling stance, the wisdom in the dimming eyes, and felt himself a child again.”
“Come on, is your heart a sponge or a fist?”
“Really, Fearghus. You need to stop asking me to let you kill our family.”
“Everything doesn't seem like anything when you love someone.”
“Maybe we’re assigning Achilles supernatural powers,” said Petra. “He isn’t a god. Not even a hero. Just a sick kid.” “No,” said Bean. “I’m a sick kid. He’s the devil.” “Well, so,” said Petra, “maybe the devil’s a sick kid.”
“I, however, was raised neither as Catholic nor as Jew. I was both, and nothing: a jewholic-anonymous, a cathjew nut, a stewpot, a mongrel cur. I was--what's the word these days?--atomised. Yessir: a real Bombay mix. ”
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