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1 " Then Viol Chrime-Forgot and Sir Duno Chrime held each other tightly and wept sweet tears and Sir Duno Chrime swore that he did not care if his squire was a little strange and that he would never abandon him again so long as he lived and Viol Chrime-Forgot said he did not care if Duno Chrime was old, or mad or thought that he was made of glass, for he would never be apart from him again no matter what adventure fell, and though neither could hear each other over the roaring of the endless falls, or see each others tears for the misty dripping of the cave each knew what the other said and meant, and so they were friends again and remained so for as long as they both lived. "
2 " Music had stirred him like that. Music had troubled him many times. But music was not articulate. It was not a new world, but rather an other chaos, that it created in us. Words! Mere words! How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One could not escape from them. And yet what a subtle magic there was in them! They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and to have a music of their own as sweet as that of viol or of lute. Mere words! Was there anything so real as words? "
