The year was woven on the loom, finished and folded away upon the pile of other years in the tall chests of Time. Night's Master (1978)
What a son I’ve made. The midwives must have turned me in my labor so that I lay on your brain and crushed it. The Storm Lord (1976)
I see you laugh, and rightly so. What is this silly old fool rambling on about? Good for you. Never respect years, only deeds. Drinking Sapphire Wine (1977)
Dust had dimmed only a fraction, not enough. Decay had brushed with its rotten fingers not nearly all it should. It was an enchanted sweet, stuck in the throat of time. Vazkor, Son of Vazkor (1978)