David Eddings Quotes

For what place can be left for anything to happen at random so long as God controls everything in order? It is a true saying that nothing can come out of nothing.

The Orb is not of itself evil. Evil is a thing that lies only in the hearts and minds of men
and of Gods, also.
Aldur

You're impossible," she told him.
"Of course I am," he answered. "It's part of my charm.

Young people, however, tend to ignore the customs of their elders. Adolescent rebellion has been responsible for all manner of absurd costumes. The more ridiculous a certain fashion is, the more adolescents will cling to it.

Young lady," Silk said urbanely, "I think you'd be amazed at how little Polgara's concerned about who you are."
"Polgara?" Ce'Nedra faltered. "The Polgara? I thought you said that she was your sister."
"I lied," Silk confessed. "It's a vice a have.

What I'm trying to say, Garion,' Durnik continued seriously, 'is that you can't go through life being afraid of what you are. If you do that, sooner or later somebody will come along who'll misunderstand, and you'll have to do something to show him that it's not him that you're afraid of.

Listen to the way people talk. If your characters sound real the rest is easy.

No one seems to realise that the aristocracy is God's special gift to mankind. The burghers treat us no better than commoners. Considering our divine origins, such disrespect is the worst form of impiety. I'm sure your Grace agrees.

The dullest man in the world is charming beyond belief when he's pouring gold coins from one hand to the other.

Have you ever noticed that? We base our assessment of the intelligence of others almost entirely on how closely their thinking matches our own. I'm sure that there are people out there who violently disagree with me on most things, and I'm broad-minded enough to conceded that they might possibly not be completely idiots, but I much prefer the company of people who agree with me.
You might want to think about that.

The victories of the imagination involved no risks, and a confrontation with an enemy always ended satisfactorily when both sides of the conversation came from one's own daydreams.

Belgarath and Garion effortlessly hurdled over the driftwood and loped off into the fog. "It's going to be a wet day," Garion noted soundlessly as he ran alongside the great silver wolf.
"Your fur won't melt."
"I know, but my paws get cold when they're wet."
"I'll have Durnik make you some little booties."
"That would be absolutely ridiculous, Grandfather," Garion said indignantly.

Make some light, dear."
Garion fumbled for one of the candles, bumped his sleeve against it, and then deftly caught it before it hit the floor.He was sort of proud of that.
"Don't play with it, Garion Just light it."
Her tone was so familiar and so commonplace that he began to laugh, and with the little surge of will that he directed at the candle was a stuttering sort of thing. The flame that appeared bobbled and hiccuped at the end of the wick in a soundless chortle.
Polgara looked steadily at the giggling candle, then closed her eyes, " oh, Garion," she sighed in resignation.
*
"Garion, why is that candle acting like that?"
"Don't worry about it, dear.

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This is Trenicia, the queen of the warrior women of the Isle of Akalla. Different places have different traditions and different customs. On the Isle of Akalla, the women rule, and the women do the fighting."

"What do the men do?" the horseman Ekial asked curiously.

"As little as they possibly can," the warrior woman said in a sardonic tone. "Over the years, they've foisted just about everything off on us. We have to grow the food, hunt the meat, and fight the wars. The men sit around getting fat and arguing with each other about something they call 'philosophy' - most of which is pure nonsense.

Garion drew in a deep breath. "Or," he continued, "I can go off by myself and find Torak - wherever he is - and try to kill him."
Silk whistled, his eyes widening.
"He said that I didn't have to go alone," Garion added hopefully. "I asked him about that."
"Thanks," Belgarath said dryly.

I thought the trees down in Lady Zelana's country were about as big as a tree could get," he said, "but the ones around here are so tall that they probably tickle the moon's tummy when she goes by.

Mandorallen turned to Barak. "If it please thee, my Lord," he requested politely, "deliver my challenge as soon as they approach us."
Barak shrugged. "It's your skin," he noted. He eyed the advancing knights and then lifted his voice in a great roar. "Sir Madorallen, Baron of Vo Mandor, desires entertainment," he declaimed. "It would amuse him if each of your parties would select a champion to joust with him. If, however, you are all such cowardly dogs that you have no stomach for such a contest, cease this brawling and stand aside so that your betters may pass."
"Splendidly spoken, my Lord Barak," Madorallen said with admiration.
"I've always had a way with words," Barak replied modestly.

It's only a story, isn't it?" ...
"Who's to say what's only a story and what's truth disguised as a story?

Could you penetrate this palace, Prince Kheldar?" King Anheg challenged.
"I already have, your Majesty," Silk said modestly, "a dozen times or more."
Anheg looked at Rhodar with one raised eyebrow.
Rhodar coughed slightly. "It was some time ago, Anheg. Nothing serious. I was just curious about something, that's all."
"All you had to do was ask," Anheg said in a slightly injured tone.
"I didn't want to bother you," Rhodar said with a shrug. "Besides, it's more fun to do it the other way.

I've had a great deal of experience with adolescents over the centuries, and I've discovered that as a group these awkward half children take themselves far too seriously. Moreover, appearance is everything for the adolescent. I suppose it's a form of play-acting. The adolescent knows that the child is lurking under the surface, but he'd sooner die than let it out, and I was no different. I was so intent on being "grown-up" that I simply couldn't relax and enjoy life.
Most people go through this stage and outgrow it. Many, however, do not. The pose becomes more important than reality, and these poor creatures become hollow people, forever striving to fit themselves into an impossible mold.

Will you never grow up?"
"I doubt it, and I certainly hope not.

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Anyway, Arianna and I left the castle very late one evening. I knew the knight on guard at the drawbridge so I hit hit him over the head because I didn't want to hurt him.
Garion blinked.
"I knew he'd be honor-bound to try to stop us," Lelldorin explained. "I didn't want to have to kill him, so I hit him over the head."
"I suppose that makes sense," Garion said dubiously.
"Arianna's almost positive he won't die."
"DIE?"
"I hit him just a little too hard, I think.

Love, My Goddess loves us all, and she gave up Bhelliom willingly out of that love. Bhelliom can't begin to understand love. In the end that may be our only defense against it.

I'd really like to go with you, Agachak. Truly I would ... but I just can't."
"I don't understand. Why not?"
"I'm not allowed to leave home. My mother'd punish me something awful if I did ... "
"But you're the king."
"That doesn't change a thing. I still do what mother says. She tells everybody that I'm the best boy ever when it comes to that."
Agachak resisted a powerful urge to change this half-wit into a toad or perhaps a jellyfish.

When you get down to the bottom of it, only about half of what we remember really happened. We tend to modify things to make ourselves look better in our own eyes and in the eyes of others. Then, if what we did wasn't really very admirable, we tend to forget that it ever happened. A normal human being's grasp on reality is very tenuous at best. Our imaginary lives are usually much nicer.

Nothing that ever happens is so unimportant that it doesn't change things.

What was that?" Belgarath asked, coming back around the corner.
"Brill," Silk replied blandly, pulling his Murgo robe back on.
"Again?" Belgarath demanded with exasperation. "What was he doing this time?"
"Trying to fly, last time I saw him." Silk smirked.
The old man looked puzzled.
"He wasn't doing it very well," Silk added.
Belgarath shrugged. "Maybe it'll come to him in time."
"He doesn't really have all that much time." Silk glanced out over the edge.
"From far below - terribly far below - there came a faint, muffled crash; then, after several seconds, another. "Does bouncing count?" Silk asked.
Belgarath made a wry face. "Not really."
"Then I'd say he didn't learn in time." Silk said blithely.

Lammer stared at the chunk of bread in his hands, trembling violently. "I'll follow you, my lady," he declared in a quavering voice. "I've eaten my shoes and lived on boiled grass and tree roots." His fists closed about the chunk of bread as if he were afraid someone might take it away from him. "I'll follow you to the end of the world and back for this." And he began to eat, tearing at the bread with his teeth.

There's a peculiar dichotomy in the nature of almost anyone who calls himself a historian. Such scholars all piously assure us that they're telling us the real truth about what really happened, but if you turn any competent historian over and look at his damp underside, you'll find a storyteller, and you can believe me when I tell you that no storyteller's ever going to tell a story without a few embellishments. Add to that the fact that we've all got assorted political and theological preconceptions that are going to color what we write, and you'll begin to realize that no history of any event is entirely reliable ...

When you know that something's going to happen, you'll start trying to see signs of its approach in just about everything. Always try to remember that most of the things that happen in this world aren't signs. They happen because they happen, and their only real significance lies in normal cause and effect. You'll drive yourself crazy if you start trying to pry the meaning out of every gust of wind or rain squall. I'm not denying that there might actually be a few signs that you won't want to miss. Knowing the difference is the tricky part.

Everyone's lonely, dear," she explained, drawing him close to her. "We touch other people only briefly, then we're alone again. You'll get used to it in time.

I want to set the record straight."
"The record's never straight, you idiot! Haven't you ever read 1984? They rewrite the record anytime it doesn't suit them. You're spinning your wheels and exposing your bare fanny for nothing.

Doesn't make any sense, he said. It was all he could do, however, to keep from throwing the dreadful sheet into

As soon as somebody falls in love, all the wits seem to dribble out of the bottom of his head.

Is it my birthday again? Already? Where does the time go?"
"Behind us
or in front. It depends on which way you are looking.

Only in the surrender of the light could the darkness prevail.

As soon as a friendship passed a certain point - some obscure and secret boundary - a woman quite automatically became overwhelmed by a raging compulsion to complicate things.

Vella looked around. "This is really a revolting place, Yarblek," she told him.
"You've been spending too much time with Porenn," he said. "You're starting to get delicate."
"How would you like to have me gut you?" she offered.
"That's my girl.

Lying is an art. A good lie shouldn't be embellished so much.

It's one of the advantages of being a woman. I get to do all sorts of unfair things, and you have to accept them because you're too polite not to.
Polgara

Degrur, that doesn't make any sense at all." "I just woke up,

Then you've learned something today. No day in which you learn something is a complete loss.

Life without any wonder left in it is flat and stale.

The place had enormous possibilities. He realized that at once. The stream, of course, was perfect for sailing toy boats, for skipping stones, and, in the event of failing inspiration, for falling into. Several of the trees appeared to have been specifically designed for climbing, and one huge, white old birch overhanging the stream promised the exhilarating combination of climbing a tree and falling into the water, all at one time.

He had performed that last service that a man can perform for a friend - he had told the truth about him.

He can come up with the most exotic things I've ever seen or heard of every time he blinks his eyes.

I know that in your heart you miss all those wonderful moments you spent with my father
watching him gnaw on the furniture, listening to his insane gibbering, and enjoying all those playful blows to the stomach and kicks to the head with which he demonstrated his affection for his wives.
King Urgit

Small female children. They're devious, but they're prettier than sons, and they smell better. (The Spirit of the Prophecy to Garion)

Garion,' she said very calmly, 'the universe knew your name before that moon up there was spun out of the emptiness. Whole constellations have been waiting for you since the beginning of time.'
I didn't want them to, Aunt Pol.'
There are those of us who aren't given that option, Garion. There are things that gave to be done and certain people who have to do them. It's as simple as that.'
He smiled rather sadly at her flawless face and gently touched the snowy white lock at her brow. Then, for the last time in his life, he asked the question that had been on his lips since he was a tiny boy. 'Why me, Aunt Pol? Why me?'
Can you possibly think of anyone else you'd trust to deal with these matters, Garion?'
He had not really been prepared for that question. It came at him in stark simplicity. Now at last he fully understood. 'No,' he sighed, 'I suppose not. Somehow it seems a little unfair, though. I wasn't even consulted.'
Neither was I, Garion,' she answered. 'But we didn't have to be consulted, did we? The knowledge of what we have to do is born into us.

When father uses the word 'politics' he's talking
about relations between nations. When I use the word, though, I'm
talking about the various subtle ways a woman can get men to do
what she wants them to do.

Now there's something for you to think about. If you don't know that you can't do something, isn't there a remote possibility that you'll go ahead and do it anyway in absolute defiance of physical law? That might be one of the drawbacks of education. If you don't know that you can't pick yourself up by the scruff of the neck and hold yourself at arm's length, maybe you can.

I've looked at the world for quite a few years now and I've found that if I don't laugh, I'll probably end up crying.
- Prince Kheldar of Drasnia

There was a sudden, shocking sound that echoed through Garion's head like an explosion.
"What was that?" Zakath exclaimed.
"You heard it, too?" Garion was amazed. "You shouldn't have been able to hear it!"
"It shook the earth, Garion. Look there." Zakath pointed off toward the north where a huge pillar of fire was soaring up toward the murky, starless sky. "What is it?"
"Aunt Pol did something. She's never that clumsy ... "
Belgarath and Beldin were both pale and shaken, and even Durnik seemed awed.
"She hasn't done anything that noisy since she was about sixteen," Beldin said,m blinking in astonishment. He looked suspiciously at Durnik. "Have you gone and got her pregnant?

It's all very well to put the government in the hands of the perfect man, but what do you do when the perfect man gets a bellyache?

Sorgan tried his very best not to think about how long it must have taken for a stream that small to eat its way down through solid rock to form its current bed. Sorgan knew exactly what the word "hundred" meant, but when numbers wandered off toward "thousand" - or even "million" - and the people who used those terms were talking about years, Sorgan's mind shied back in horror.

Someday you'll have to show me how you did that," Asharak was saying. "I found the experience interesting. My horse had hysterics, however."
"My apologies to your horse.

All social workers want is to get everyone involved in a programme. Because a programme provides full employment for three generations of social workers. And they mess up.

I've seen hopeless wars won before. If you give in to despair before you begin, you'll have no chance at all.

When my sons told me about what they'd found, I went to the priests of Belar and had them examine the auguries. This is the year to go. The ice up there won't be as thick again for years and years. Then they cast my own auguries, and from what they say, this could be the most fortunate year in my whole life."
"Do you actually believe that superstitious nonsense?" I demanded. "Are you so gullible that you think that somebody can foretell the future by fondling a pile of sheep guts?"
He looked a little injured. "This was important, Belgarath. I certainly wouldn't trust sheep's entrails for something like this."
"I'm glad to hear that."
"We used a horse instead. Horse guts never lie.

Love can show itself in many strange ways,

Why are the people all so unhappy?" he asked Mister Wolf. "They have a stern and demanding God," Wolf replied. "Which God is that?" Garion asked. "Money," Wolf said.

Nothing that's really worthwhile should be easy, Belgarion. If it's easy, we don't value it ...
Eriond

We can try to act civilized and polite, but at the bottom of it all, the power of any ruler is based on a threat. Fortunately, we don't have to carry that threat out too often.

When love is involved no sacrifice is too great.

Any time there's something so ridiculously dangerous that no rational human being would try it, they send for me.'
Garion

But there's a world beyond what we can see and touch, and that world lives by its own laws. What may be impossible in this very ordinary world is very possible there, and sometimes the boundaries between the two worlds disappear, and then who can say what is possible and impossible?

It's different," Sorgan's younger cousin Torl declared, gesturing at the glorious sunset late that afternoon. "It's pretty enough, I suppose, but it's not too much like the sunsets out at sea. Mountains seem to do peculiar things to the sky."

"It's the clouds, Captain Torl," Keselo explained. "Most of the time, I'd imagine, the clouds out over the sea sort of plod along from here to there. When they come to mountains, though, they have to climb up one side and then slide down the other. That sort of scrambles them, so they're thicker in some places and thinner in others. That's why we see so many different shades of red in a mountain sunset.

Contemporary fantasists all bow politely to Lord Tennyson and Papa Tolkien, then step around them to go back to the original texts for inspiration
and there are a lot of those texts. We have King Arthur and his gang in English; we've got Siegfried and Brunhild in German; Charlemagne and Roland in French; El Cid in Spanish; Sigurd the Volsung in Icelandic; and assorted 'myghtiest Knights on lyfe' in a half-dozen other cultures. Without shame, we pillage medieval romance for all we're worth.

I could insist that somebody take me to her so I can obey her orders."
"I think you might choke on that one, Zakath," Silk said lightly. "Obey is a difficult concept for someone in your position."
"He's an irritating little fellow, isn't he?" Zakath said to Garion.
"I've noticed."
"Why, your Majesties," Velvet said, all wide-eyed innocence, "what a thing to suggest."
"Well, isn't he?" Zakath said pointedly.
"Of course, but it's not nice to talk about it."
Silk looked slightly offended. "Would you people like for me to go away so you can talk freely?"
"Oh, that won't be necessary, Kheldar," Velvet said with a dimpled smile.

You're going to stay here and help Daran in every way you can. Don't let him sink into melancholia the way his father has ... Now, pull yourself together. Blow your nose and fix your face. Daran's talking to the Rivan Warder right now. I'll take you to where they are, and then I have to leave."
"You're not even going to stay for the funeral?"
"I've got the funeral in my heart, Pol, the same as you have. No amount of ceremony's going to make it go away. Now go fix your face. You look awful.

I taught in a small teacher's college for three or four years, at which point all the administrators got a pay raise and the teaching faculty didn't.

Ordinary men live in fear all the time. Didn't you know that? We're afraid of the weather, we're afraid of powerful men, we're afraid of the night and the monsters that lurk in the dark, we're afraid of growing old and of dying. Sometimes we're even afraid of living. Ordinary men are afraid almost every minute of their lives.

I thought you said you were the one in charge!" Ce'Nedra exclaimed.
I lied." Silk said. "It's a vice I have.

I must admit that I haven't heard of the Duchess of Erat before."
"You're a fortunate man," Wolf said.
"She's a great beauty," the man said admiringly.
"And has a temper to match," Wolf told him.
"I noticed that," the guard said.
"We noticed you noticing," Silk told him slyly.

All I knew was that I would die if he sent me away. He shrugged. You can cut a man's heart out with a shrug, did you know that?

Let's kill the big one with the red whiskers then," another suggested. "He looks like he might be troublesome, and he's probably too stupid to know anything useful."
"I want that one," Barak whispered.

He felt oddly powerless, as if his entire life were in the fingers of two faceless players maneuvering pieces in the same patterns on some vast board in a game that, for all he knew, had lasted for eternity.

That's a strange hobby for a Church Knight."

"God hired me as a fighting man, Sparhawk, not as a monk. I fight whenever He tells me to, but the rest of my time is my own.

Zedar was gone ... As an owl, though, I was able to drift silently from tree to tree until I caught up with him ... He wasn't really hard to follow, since he'd conjured up a dim, greenish light to see by
and to hold off the boogiemen. Did I ever tell you that Zedar's afraid of the dark? That adds another dimension to his present situation, doesn't it?
He was bundled to the ears in furs, and he was muttering to himself as he floundered along through the snow. Zedar talks to himself a lot. He always has.
... I drifted to a nearby tree and watched him
owlishly.
Sorry. I couldn't resist that.

...I can't abide snakes."
"I don't even think of her as a snake."
"Ce'Nedra," he said patiently, "she's long and skinny, she wriggles, she doesn't have any arms or legs, and she's poisonous. By definition, she's a snake."
"...I'm bitterly disappointed in you, Prince Kheldar. She's a sweet, loving, brave little creature, and you're insulting her." He looked at her for a moment, then rose to his feet and bowed floridly to the earthenware bottle. "I'm dreadfully sorry, dear Zith," he apologized. "I can't think what came over me. Can you possible find it in your cold little green heart to forgive me?"
Zith hissed at him, a hiss ending in a curious grunt.
"She says to leave her alone," Sadi told him.
"Can you really understand what she's saying?"
"In a general sort of way, yes. Snakes have a very limited vocabulary, so it's not all that difficult to pick up a few phrases here and there." The eunuch frowned. "She's been swearing a great deal lately, though, and that's not like her. She's usually a very ladylike little snake."
"I can't believe I'm actually involved in this conversation," Silk said, shaking his head and going off down the hall toward the back of the house.

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As long as people are talking instead of fighting, nobody loses very much blood - unless he happens to bite his tongue.

Do you ever plan to grow up, Veltan?" he asked.

"Not if I can avoid it, no.

Now do you see why war irritates me? It's always the same. A lot of people get killed, but in the end, the whole thing is settled at the conference table. The notion of having the conference first doesn't seem to occur to people.

Once you've decided that something's absolutely true, you've closed your mind on it, and a closed mind doesn't go anywhere. Question everything. That's what education's all about.

Trust me. - Silk

The unfortunate thing about working for yourself is that you have the worst boss in the world. I work every day of the year except at Christmas, when I work a half day.

Some day, Prince Kheldar, you will fall in love," the queen said with a little smirk, "and the twelve kingdoms will stand around and chortle over the fall of so notorious a bachelor.

I wrote a novel for my degree, and I'm very happy I didn't submit that to a publisher. I sympathize with my professors who had to read it.

Mimbrates are the bravest people in the world
probably because they don't have brains enough to be afraid of anything. Garion's friend Mandorallen is totally convinced that he's invincible."
"He is," Ce'Nedra said in automatic defense of her knight. "I saw him kill a lion once with his bare hands."
" ... I heard him suggest to Barak and Hettar once that the three of them attack an entire Tolnedran legion."
"Perhaps he was joking."
"Mimbrate knights don't know how to joke," Silk told him.
"I will not sit here and listen to you people insult my knight," Ce'Nedra said hotly.
"We'renot insulting hi, Ce'Nedra," Silk told her. "We're describing him. He's so noble he makes my hair hurt."
"Nobility is an alien concept to a Drasnian, I suppose," she noted.
"Not alien, Ce'Nedra. Incomprehensible.

Wise are you, indeed ... to know what is not possible ...

Dost thou question my word, Sir Knight?" Madorallen returned in an ominously quiet voice. "And wilt thou then come down and put thy doubt to the test? Or is it perhaps that thou wouldst prefer to cringe doglike behind thy parapet and yap at thy betters?"
"Oh, that was very good," Barak said admiringly.

It keeps him happy, Dahlaine, and happy people are nicer than gloomy ones. Haven't you noticed that before?

Life's much more pleasing when you don't have to spend all of your time thinking.

As they prepared to mount, Barak's horse, a large, sturdy gray, sighed and threw a reproachful look at Hettar, and the Algar chuckled.
'What's so funny?' Barak demanded suspiciously.
'The horse said something,' Hettar replied. 'Never mind.

Who owns a man, Durnik?" the blond young man asked sadly. "The one who rules him, or the one who pays him?

Reed College required a thesis for a Bachelor's degree. Normally a Bachelor's is sort of like being stamped 'Prime US Beef.' They just walk you through, hand out the diplomas and you fill in your name later on.

Zakath's face grew thoughtful. "You know something, Garion?" he said. "Man thinks he owns the world, but we share it with all sorts of creatures who are indifferent to our overlordship. They have their own societies, and I supposed even their own cultures. They don't even pay attention to us, do you?"
"Only when we inconvenience them ... It teaches us humility," Garion agreed.

In spite of this universal plunge toward matrimony, I still haven't lost my senses. If worse comes to worse, I still know how to run.

It's common knowledge that the "church" is nothing more than an invention of the priesthood designed to swindle the ordinary people of the empire out of just about everything they own.

I hesitate to predict whether this theory is true. But if the general opinion of Mankind is optimistic then we're in for a period of extreme popularity for science fiction.