Quotes from Piers Anthony

Now you must excuse your Raja for he must suffer to give audience to the prince of Punt, a pompous old fool, who believes that his frequent flatulencies are the echoes of the Gods applauding his non sequiturs.

And as I said, him too! Now this one had possibilities," he said, bringing up the doll. "You ever been in someone else's body, bumpkin?" "No, not exactly that way—

Your teacher didn't lie to you. A centaur never lies. He merely edited his information, on orders from the King, so as not to force on the impressionable minds of children things their parents did not want them to hear. Education has ever been thus.

Speeches of self-justification were seldom worthwhile for any but the speaker.

Wealth and power at the expense of nature were an inevitably lethal cancer. But there seemed to be no gentle way to convince cancer to practice moderation.

The Zombie Master, a bachelor, had a good store of provisions but evidently survived mainly on those that required least effort to prepare: cheese balls, fried eggs from the friers that nested on the rafters, hot dogs from the dogwood that grew just inside the moat, and shrimp from the shrimp plants in the courtyard.

the goblins were chanting, "One two three four, Kill two three four, One two three four, Kill two three four," on and on endlessly.

Stay out of this, dodo!" she snapped. "What do you know about it?" Dor spread his hands. How did he get into arguments he was trying to avoid? "Nothing. I can't grow a thing." "You will when you're a man," Grundy muttered.

Penny brought home a paper with her teacher's marking on it, and all I can say is the man comes across like an illiterate ass. He writes don't end a sentence with a proposition. No, that's not a typo, and yes, you can end a sentence with a preposition.

The man glanced up. "Hello. Tweeter tells me you're Kody, a fellow Mundanian, newly arrived, and you want to compare notes." "Uh, yes, in essence," Kody agreed, taken aback. All that from one tweet? Well, maybe it did fit within 140 characters.

The monster nudged forward, swiping at me with a massive forepaw. I ducked back, and the swipe missed and caught the trunk of the tree to my right, gouging out four channels of bark. The tree shuddered and groaned woodenly, and sap dripped from the wounds. That from channel number 4 smelled very good.

Grief is not necessarily any prettier than death, and the grief-stricken do not wander like lambs grateful for the shepherd's guidance. They can be more like wounded wolves, snapping at those who would help them.

For an instant Stile was daunted by the improbability of it all: a man, a cyborg, a robot, an animalhead, and a wooden golem, all riding unicorns through a battlefield strewn with goblins and dragons, pursuing an invaluable ball of power-rock that rolled along a channel cleared by plastic explosive. What a mishmash!

Brevity did not mean inconsequence...

Meanwhile the other monsters were busy. The winged horse was rearing and stomping; the rabbits were gnawing into legs; the double-headed eagle was plucking eyeballs neatly from their sockets and swallowing them whole, the satyr was— Dor stared for a moment in amazement, then forced his gaze away. He had never imagined killing men that way.

A man is only the man he seems to be. Inside, where no one sees, he may be a mass of gnawing worms of doubt and ire and grief. ... No challenge is easy. The measure of the challenge a man rises to at need is the measure of the man.

Smash, come on!" Dor cried. "Don't push your luck!" The ogre's reply was muffled. All Dor heard was "… luck!" "Oooo, what you said!" the pebble exclaimed. "Wash out your mouth with soapstone!

But the centaurs ran the wrong way, back toward

The flea chomped him hard on the left ear. Dor bashed at it—and boxed his ear. The pain was brief but intense.

If he's lost in gourdland, he's still lost when he returns there, even if he's been a long time out of his gourd. He doesn't know where he's going because he doesn't know where he's been.

ignorance of isolation breeds unwarranted hostility.

Bink stared the way Jewel had gone. I wish there was something I could do. You can leave her alone, Cherie said firmly. She must make her own life.

Call it what you will. One of you will stay—or all will stay. The tax will be paid." And the rocs dropped lower yet. "Poll your number to determine the one.