The void is a mouth crying to be filled, a blank mind aching for thought, a cavity desperate for shape. What is not implies what is. - Jack Vance

My clever baton holds your unnatural sorcery in abeyance.

The vixen knew no other world than that in her own brain, had no conception that wills could exist in opposition to hers. Amusing now—but what a devil when she grew older!

“I am more inclined to punish Hurtiancz for his crassness,” said Ildefonse. “But now he simulates a swinish stupidity to escape my anger.”<p>“Absolute falsity!” roared Hurtiancz. “I simulate nothing!”<p>Ildefonse shrugged. “For all his deficiencies as polemicist and magician, Hurtiancz at least is candid.”