I've Been A Schoolteacher. I Always Try

Lancelot: Morgaine, Morgaine - Kinswoman, I Have Never Seen You Weep. Morgaine: Are You Like So Many Men, Afraid Of A Woman's Tears? (...) Lancelot: No (...) It Makes Them Seem So Much More Real, So Much More Vulnerable - Women Who Never Weep Frighten Me, Because I Know They Are Stronger Than I, And I Am Always A Little Afraid Of What They Will Do.

If You Listen To Dogs Barking You Will Go Deaf Without Learning Anything.

I Should Know, For I Am Morgaine Le Fay, Priestess Of The Isle Of Avalon, Where The Ancient Religion Of The Mother Goddess Is Born.

Rome Was Mud And Smoky Skies; The Rank Smell Of The Tiber And The Exotically Spiced Cooking Fires Of A Hundred Different Nationalities. Rome Was White Marble And Gilding And Heady Perfumes; The Blare Of Trumpets And The Shrieking Of Market-women And The Eternal, Sub-aural Hum Of More People, Speaking More Languages Than Gaius Had Ever Imagined Existed, Crammed Together On Seven Hills Whose Contours Had Long Ago Disappeared Beneath This Encrustation If Humanity. Rome Was The Pulsing Heart Of The World.

What Wise God Would Consign A Man To Hell For Ignorance, Instead Of Teaching Him Better In The Afterlife?