“Keep practicing," he told her."Until I get it right?" she said. But he corrected her."No. Until you don't get it wrong.”

“Keep practicing," he told her."Until I get it right?" she said. But he corrected her."No. Until you don't get it wrong.”

“As the old Ranger adage went "If a person doesn't expect to see someone, odds are he won't.”

“If you're a ghost," he said, "we mean you no disrespect. And if you're not a ghost, tell me who you are-or you soon will be one”

“The sarcastic little know-it-all needs help, does he?”

“You know, Gilan, sarcasm isn't the lowest form of wit. It's not even wit at all.”

“Anyone can make a mistake.... It's how they learn from it and recover from it that shows their true worth.”

“You'll like it less when you hear what they've been building. It's a big raised platform at the end of the square about two metres above the ground, with steps running up to it.''Like a stage?' Erak suggested. 'Maybe they're going to put on a play.''Or an execution,' Horace said.”

“I'd say," the Ranger answered after a few seconds' deliberation, "that he'll be heading south now that he has the chance. Back into Araluen.""How do you know that?" Horace asked. He was always impressed at the two Rangers' ability to read a situation and come up with the correct answer to a problem. Sometimes, he thought, they almost seemed to have divine guidance."I'm guessing," Halt told him.”

“And why would I be hiding from Master Chubb in his own kitchen?" Halt challenged. Again, Horace shrugged innocently. "Well, there was a tray of freshly made pies airing on the windowsill, wasn't there? And you're quite fond of pies, aren't you, Halt?" Halt drew himself up very straight in the saddle. "Are you accusing me of sneaking into that kitchen to steal the pies for myself? Is that it?" His voice and body language simply reeked of injured dignity."Of course not, Halt!" Horace hurried to assure him, and Halt's stiff-shouldered form relaxed a little."I just thought I'd give you the opportunity to confess," Horace added.”

“No matter how thoroughly you plan, no matter how much you think you know, you've never thought of everything.”

“Halt! How are you? What have you been doing? Where's Abelard? How's Crowley? What's this all about?" "I'm glad to see you rate my horse more important than our Corps Commandant," Halt said, one eyebrow rising in the expression that Will knew so well. Early in their relationship, he had thought it was an expression of displeasure. He had learned years ago that it was, for Halt, the equivalent of a smile.”