A circle has no end.

From time to timeI once wondered how one wanders from time to timeAnd think up the paradox lineSpeak of Epoch’s crimeOh I lied, it hasn’t happened yetBut bet you better believe it’s such a habit...

Lord Varyls, I am growing strangely fond of you. I may kill you yet, but I think I’d feel sad about it.

Too many riddles weigh men down on earth. We must solve as we can, and try to keep a dry skin in the water.

The alchemy of life is to turn coins into cents, by making sense of change.

Samsa certainly had no idea what lay ahead. He was in the dark about everything: the future, of course, but the present and the past as well . What was right, and what was wrong?...

There is an Anglo-Saxon form of riddling that plays with the polarities of words like bright and dark, cold and warm, throwing them against one another and crafting lines of rich, humorous nonsense like this...

Elodin proved a difficult man to find. He had an office in Hollows, but never seemed to use it. When I visited Ledgers and Lists, I discovered he only taught one class: Unlikely Maths. However,...

You’re just being cryptic again. It’s like soap opera sex. Lots of boring dialogue and when they finally do go to bed, everything’s dark and covered by blankets.

I could isolate, consciously, little. Everything seemed blurred, yellow-clouded, yielding nothing tangible. Her inept acrostics, maudlin evasions, theopathies – every recollection formed ripples of mysterious meaning. Everything seemed yellowly blurred, illusive, lost.