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1 " So endeth the story of the winning of Excalibur, and may God give unto you in your life, that you may have His truth to aid you, like a shining sword, for to overcome your enemies; and may He give you Faith (for Faith containeth Truth as a scabbard containeth its sword), and may that Faith heal all your wounds of sorrow as the sheath of Excalibur healed all the wounds of him who wore that excellent weapon. For with Truth and Faith girded upon you, you shall be as well able to fight all your battles as did that noble hero of old, whom men called King Arthur. "
― Howard Pyle , The Story of King Arthur and His Knights
2 " A brusque whisper coaxed Phillip from slumber. Someone had called his name. The cot squeaked as he sat up and squinted at a featureless silhouette. “Who is it?”“Rise. Quick. Bring your medicine maker.” The ragged voice belonged to True Seeker.Tasked with keeping a watchful eye on Milly, the young man would come to Phillip at this hour for only one reason. He swung his legs to the ground. With one foot going into his trousers, he took a wide step across the narrow barracks and jostled Buck’s shoulder.His friend was on his feet and half-dressed before Phillip left the building, alarm urging his feet to a gallop. No one need tell him which direction to go. He buckled his sword belt as he went. The scabbard slapped his leg with each footfall, bringing to mind a similar night not long enough ago. His stride lengthened.This time, he would run Collins clean through. "
3 " The boldness of his mind was sheathed in a scabbard of politeness. "
― Dumas Malone , Jefferson the Virginian
4 " I do not need a scabbard to sheathe my mind. "
― Fuyumi Ono , The Twelve Kingdoms: Skies of Dawn (The Twelve Kingdoms, #4)
5 " You're going to keep making these mistakes as long as you keep carrying your brain in the same scabbard with your sword, Lelldorin. "
― David Eddings , Queen of Sorcery (The Belgariad, #2)
6 " Out of the scabbard of the night By God's hand drawn Flashes his shining sword of light And lo the dawn! "
7 " Poetry is a sword of lightning, ever unsheathed, which consumes the scabbard that would contain it. "
― Percy Bysshe Shelley