She knew that there was such a thing as heroic odds. Songs and ballads and stories and poems were full of stories about one person singlehandedly taking on and defeating a vast number of enemies. Only now it was starting to dawn on her that the trouble was that they were songs and ballads and stories and poems because they dealt with things that were, not to put too fine a point on it, untrue.
He said that in times to come people would look back on this day, whatever the date was, and proudly shown their scars, at least those who’d survived would show their scars, and be very proud, and probably have drinks bought for them.
The Monks of Cool, whose tiny and exclusive monastery is hidden in a really cool and laid back valley in the lower Ramtops, have a passing out test for a novice. He is taken into a room full of clothing and asked, ‘Yo, my son, which of these is the most stylish thing to wear?’ (Cool, but not necessarily up to date.) And the correct answer is: Hey, whatever I select.