Meggie Folchart: Having writer's block? Maybe I can help.
Fenoglio: Oh yes, that's right. You want to be a writer, don't you?
Meggie Folchart: You say that as if it's a bad thing.
Fenoglio: Oh no, it's just a lonely thing. Sometimes the world you create on the page seems more friendly and alive than the world you actually live in.
Elinor Loredan: But I just adore everything Persian.
Meggie Folchart: You've been to Persia, then?
Elinor Loredan: Yes, a hundred times. Along with St. Petersburg, Paris, Middle-Earth, distant planets and Shangri-la. And I never had to leave this room. Books are adventure. They contain murder and mayhem and passion. They love anyone who opens them.
Narrator: Since the dawn of time, storytellers have enchanted audiences with their words. But there is an even rarer gift. There are those, who by reading out loud, can bring characters to life. Out of books and into our world. Most of these Silvertongues, as they are know prefer to keep their skills a secret but some do not even know this gift is theirs, until it is too late.
Dustfinger: His name's Gwin. And I know he looks charming, but you know what they say about books and covers.
Meggie Folchart: Yes, I do. And I also know what they say about talking to strangers. Excuse me.
Dustfinger: But I'm no stranger, Meggie.
Capricorn: What's that sticky stuff called?
Basta: Duct tape.
Capricorn: Yes, duct tape. I love duct tape.
Fenoglio: [to Dustfinger] You don't have to be selfish just because that's how I wrote you! You're more than that, you said so yourself.
[Mo gets ready to send Dustfinger back into his book]
Mo 'Silvertongue' Folchart: Hey, don't take this the wrong way, but don't come back, ok?
Meggie Folchart: Don't worry Toto; you're just not in Kansas anymore.
Dustfinger: [talking about Resa] Well she's almost okay.
Mo 'Silvertongue' Folchart: Almost?
Dustfinger: She has no voice.
Mo 'Silvertongue' Folchart: Well that makes sense, you speaking weasel.
Fenoglio: This must be what it feels like to give birth!
Capricorn: Oh you are going to love him, and by love I mean cower in terror from.
Elinor Loredan: What in the name of Jane Austen are you doing up at this hour?
Fenoglio: [entering Capricorn's fortress] By all the letters in the alphabet, it looks just like my book! It's like walking into my own imagination.