Dragons Of Autumn Twilight Quotes

Tanis blinked with disbelief, then he heard a sound behind him that nearly made him leap into a tree in panic. He whirled around, heart in his throat, sword in his hand. Raistlin was laughing.

And my eyes! I see through hourglass pupils and therefore I see time-as it affects all things. Even as I look at you now, Tanis," the mage whispered, "I see you dying, slowly, by inches. And so I see every living thing.

Well! I had the most fantastic dream! Trees crying blood. Horrible dead elves going around and killing people! Raistlin wearing black robes! It was the most incredible thing! And you were there, Sturm. Laurana and Flint. And everyone died! Well, almost everyone. Raistlin didn't. And there was a green dragon-' Tasslehoff stopped. What was wrong with his friends? Their faces were pale, their eyes wide.

Est Sularus oth Mithas”—“My honor is life.

You know," he said with unusual somberness, "I asked my father once why kenders were little, why we weren't big like humans and elves. I really wanted to be big," he said softly and for a moment he was quiet. "What did your father say?" asked Fizban gently. "He said kenders were small because we were meant to do small things. 'If you look at all the big things in the world closely,' he said, 'you'll see that they're really made up of small things all joined together.' That big dragon down there comes to nothing but tiny drops of blood, maybe. It's the small things that make the difference.

Say that our lives are measured not by gain but by giving.

The cruelest form of torture one can inflict on a kender is to lock him up. Of course, it is also widely believed that the cruelest form of torture one can inflict on any other species is to lock them up with a kender.

People want to believe in something—even if, deep inside, they know it is false. But

How certain are you that this forest is Darken Wood, Raistin?" "How certain is one of anything, Half-Elven?" the mage replied. "I am not certain of drawing my next breath. But go ahead. Walk into the wood that no living man has ever walked out. Death is life's one great certainty, Tanis." The half-elf felt a sudden urge to throw Raistlin off the side of the mountain.

You know," he said with unusual somberness, "I asked my father once why kenders were little, why we weren't big like humans and elves. I really wanted to be big," he said softly and for a moment he was quiet. "What did your father say?" asked Fizban gently. "He said kenders were small because we were meant to do small things. 'If you look at all the big things in the world closely,' he said, 'you'll see that they're really made up of small things all joined together.' That big dragon down there comes to nothing but tiny drops of blood, maybe. It's the small things that make the difference." "Very wise, your father." "Yes." Tas brushed his hand across his eyes. "I haven't seen him in a long time." The kender's pointed chin jutted forward, his lips tightened. His father, if he had seen him, would not have known this small, resolute person for his son. "We'll leave the big things to others," Tas announced finally. "They've got Tanis and Sturm and Goldmoon. They'll manage. We'll do the small thing, even if it doesn't seem very important. We're going to rescue Sestun.

He remembered a dog—the only living thing they found in the entire village—curled around the body of a dead child. Caramon stopped to pet the small dog. The animal cringed, then licked the big man’s hand. It then licked the child’s cold face, looking up at the warrior hopefully, expecting this human to make everything all right, to make his little playmate run and laugh again.

We’d better get going.” Caramon glanced around uneasily. “We show up like a jewel in a gypsy dancer’s navel.

That’s it!” cried Fizban. “I remembered!” Suddenly the air was filled with strands of sticky, floating cobweb.

He said kenders were small because we were meant to do small things. ‘If you look at all the big things in the world closely,’ he said, ‘you’ll see that they’re really made up of small things all joined together.’ That big dragon down there comes to nothing but tiny drops of blood, maybe. It’s the small things that make the difference.

What do you see to the south?" Tanis asked abruptly. Raistilin glanced at him. "What do I ever see with these eyes of mine Half-Elf?" the mage whispered bitterly. "I see death, death and destruction. I see war." He gestured up above. "The constellations have not returned. The Queen of Darkness is not defeated." "We may have not won the war," Tanis began, "but surely we have won a major battle---" Raistlin coughed and shook his head sadly. "Do you see no hope?" "Hope is the denial of reality. It is the carrot dangled before the draft horse to keep him plodding along in the vain attempt to reach it." "Are you saying we should just give up?" Tanis asked, irritably tossing the bark away. "I'm saying we should remove the carrot and walk forward with our eyes open," Raistin answered. Coughing he drew his robes more closely around him.

Fortunately, our friend Raistlin taught me what to watch—” “Raistlin!” Flint puffed. “That pasty-faced, skinny magician. He’s more than half charlatan himself. Always sniveling and whining and poking his nose where it doesn’t belong. If it weren’t for his twin brother looking after him, someone would’ve put an end to his magic long ago.

There comes a time, Laurana, when you’ve got to risk your life for something you believe in—something that means more than life itself.

New roads demand a hoopak,” was a popular saying among kenderkind. It was always followed immediately by another of their sayings: “No road is ever old.

The old magician had pulled out a spellbook and was flipping through its pages. “Web … web … how did that go?” he mumbled.

Death is life’s one great certainty,

We do not mourn the loss of those who die fulfilling their destinies.

Yes, I am smarter than you—all of you. And someday I will prove it! Someday you—with all your strength and charm and good looks—you, all of you, will call me master!

it’s too dark a night to walk with your eyes closed,

People want to believe in something—even if, deep inside, they know it is false.

Our lives are measured not by gain but by giving.

Raistlin ran to Fizban’s side. “Now is the time for the casting of the fireball, Old One,” he panted. “It is?” Fizban’s face filled with delight. “Wonderful! How does it go?” “Don’t you remember!” Raistlin practically shrieked, dragging the mage behind a pillar as the slug spat another glob of burning saliva onto the floor. “I used to … let me see.” Fizban’s brow furrowed in concentration.

Tas stared mournfully at the body of the goblin he killed. It had fallen facedown, his dagger buried underneath. “I’ll get it for you,” Tanis offered, preparing to roll the body over. “No.” Tas made a face. “I don’t want it back. You can never get rid of the smell, you know.

Tas had been teasing Flint unmercifully all morning, calling him "Seamaster" and "Shipmate" asking him the price of fish, and how much he would charge to Ferry them back across the lake. Flint finally threw a rock at him, and Tennis sent ass down to the lake to scrub out the pans.

How do we know, Master," Tanis asked hesitantly, "Whether the life of any creature has fulfilled its destiny? I have known the very old to die in bitterness and despair. I have seen young children die before their time but leave behind such a legacy of love and joy that grief for their passing was tempered by the knowledge that their brief lives had given much to others." "You have answered your own question, Tanis Half-Elven, far better than I could," the Forestmaster said gravely. "Say that our lives are measured not by gain but by giving.

The grasslands are endless, And summer sings on, And Goldmoon the princess Loves a poor man’s son. Her father the chieftain Makes long roads between them: The grasslands are endless, and summer sings on. The grasslands are waving, The sky’s rim is gray, The chieftain sends Riverwind East and away, To search for strong magic At the lip of the morning, The grasslands are waving, the sky’s rim is gray. O Riverwind, where have you gone? O Riverwind, autumn comes on. I sit by the river And look to the sunrise, But the sun rises over the mountains alone. The grasslands are fading, The summer wind dies, He comes back, the darkness Of stones in his eyes. He carries a blue staff As bright as a glacier: The grasslands are fading, the summer wind dies. The grasslands are fragile, As yellow as flame, The chieftain makes mockery Of Riverwind’s claim. He orders the people To stone the young warrior: The grasslands are fragile, as yellow as flame. The grassland has faded, And autumn is here. The girl joins her lover, The stones whistle near, The staff flares in blue light And both of them vanish: The grasslands are faded, and autumn is here.

Tanis answered. “You’ll slow us up if you don’t.” “The men in my tribe can travel for many days without sleep,” Riverwind said. His eyes were dull and glazed, and he seemed to stare at nothing. Tanis started to argue, then sighed and kept quiet. He knew that he could never truly understand the agony the Plainsman was suffering. To have friends and family—an entire life—utterly destroyed, must be so devastating that the mind shrank from even imagining it. Tanis left him and walked over to where Flint was sitting carving at a piece of wood. “You might as well get some sleep,” Tanis told the dwarf. “I’ll watch for a while.” Flint nodded. “I heard you yelling over there.” He sheathed his dagger and thrust the piece of wood into a pouch. “Defending Que-shu?” Tanis frowned at the memory. Shivering in the chill night, he wrapped his cloak around him, drew up his hood. “Any idea where we are?” he asked Flint. “The Plainsman says we’re on a road known as Sageway East,” the dwarf answered. He stretched out on the cold ground, dragging a blanket up around his shoulders.

Tas pulled himself up over the porch railing with the skill of a burglar. The kender slipped over to the door and peered up and down the bridge-walk. Seeing no one on it, he motioned to the others. Then he studied the lock and smiled to himself in satisfaction. The kender slid something out of one of his pouches. Within seconds, the door of Tika’s house swung open. “Come in,” he said, playing host.

What choice did I have?” Goldmoon cried angrily. “My father wasn’t well. I had to rule or Loreman would have taken over the tribe. Do you know what’s it like—being Chieftain’s Daughter? Wondering at every meal if this morsel is the one with the poison? Struggling every day to find the money in the treasury to pay the soldiers so that Loreman would have no excuse to take over! And all the time I must act as Chieftain’s Daughter, while my father sits and drools and mumbles.” Her voice choked with tears. Riverwind listened, his face stern and unmoving.

Still, without the truth, all will perish and be lost. Come here inside the temple with me, daughter. You will find what you seek.

gain the power to defeat them, you will need the truth of the gods, this is the greatest gift of which you were told. Below this temple, in the ruins haunted by the glories of ages past, rest the Disks of Mishakal; circular disks made of gleaming platinum. Find the Disks and you can call upon my power, for I am Mishakal, goddess of healing.

To gain

Mithas”—“My honor is life.

The Highbulp frowned. “How me know you not take all treasure, leave Highbulp only one mad dragon? There be lot of treasure, pretty rocks.

People want to believe in something—even if, deep inside, they know it is false. But what of you? How was your journey to your homelands?

Be at ease, warrior,” she said. “The deer fulfills his purpose in life by providing sustenance for the hunter—be it wolf or man. We do not mourn the loss of those who die fulfilling their destinies.

He’s harmless,” he puffed as he passed Tika. “Let him do what he wants—within reason. Maybe he’s throwing a party.

Hope is the denial of reality. It is the carrot dangled before the draft horse to keep him plodding along in a vain attempt to reach it.” “Are you saying we should just give up?” Tanis asked, irritably tossing the bark away. “I’m saying we should remove the carrot and walk forward with our eyes open,

I asked my father once why kenders were little, why we weren’t big like humans and elves. I really wanted to be big,” he said softly and for a moment he was quiet. “What did your father say?” asked Fizban gently. “He said kenders were small because we were meant to do small things. ‘If you look at all the big things in the world closely,’ he said, ‘you’ll see that they’re really made up of small things all joined together.’ That big dragon down there comes to nothing but tiny drops of blood, maybe. It’s the small things that make the difference.

How do we know, Master," Tanis asked hesitantly, "Whether the life of any creature has fulfilled its destiny? I have known the very old to die in bitterness and despair. I have seen young children die before their time but leave behind such a legacy of love and joy that grief for their passing was tempered by the knowledge that their brief lives had given much to others." "You have answered your own question, Tanis Half-Elven, far better than I could," the Forestmaster said gravely. "Say that our lives are measured not by gain but by giving.

Est Sularus oth Mithas”—“My honor is life.” The code defined honor and was more

complete and detailed and strict than any known on Krynn.

Say that our lives are measured not by gain but by giving.

We do not

mourn the loss of those who die fulfilling their destinies.

Say that our lives are measured not by gain but by giving.” The half-elf started to reply, but the Forestmaster interrupted.

Even if I am twisted and warped.” Raistlin’s voice rose with harsh arrogance. “Yes, I am smarter than you—all of you. And someday I will prove it! Someday you—with all your strength and charm and good looks—you, all of you, will call me master!

His hands clenched to fists inside his robes, his eyes flared red in the crimson moonlight.

The cruelest form of torture one can inflict on a kender is to lock him up. Of course, it is also widely believed that the cruelest form of torture one can inflict on any other species is to lock them up with a kender. After three days of Tasslehoff’s incessant chatter, pranks, and practical jokes, the companions would have willingly traded the kender for a peaceful hour of being stretched on the rack—at least that’s what Flint said.

But—it’s too dark a night to walk with your eyes closed, as my people say.” Tanis sighed and nodded.

He said kenders were small because we were meant to do small things. ‘If you look at all the big things in the world closely,’ he said, ‘you’ll see that they’re really made up of small things all joined together.’ That big dragon down there

comes to nothing but tiny drops of blood, maybe. It’s the small things that make the difference.

Hope is the denial of reality. It is the carrot dangled before the draft horse to keep him plodding along in a vain attempt to reach it.” “Are you saying we should just give up?” Tanis asked, irritably tossing the bark away. “I’m saying we should remove the carrot and walk forward with our eyes open,” Raistlin answered.

Still,” the kender said softly, “we have to keep trying and hoping. That’s what’s important, the trying and the hoping. Maybe that’s most important of all.

Our lives are forfeit.

Tanis at first wondered what the mage was studying, then realized it was his spellbook. It is the curse of the magi that they must constantly study and recommit their spells to memory every day. The words of magic flame in the mind, then flicker and die when the spell is cast. Each spell burns up some of the magician’s physical and mental energy until he is totally exhausted and must rest before he can use his magic again.

It’s the sensible, logical thing to do, of course, which is why we don’t do it.

two!” The centaur glanced back, his eyes glittering in the moonlight. “It be my job to see thee stays on. Relax. Put thy hands on me rump to balance thyself. There, now. Grip with thy legs.

There comes a time, Laurana, when you've got to risk your life for something you believe in -- something that means more than life itself.