The Black Cauldron is a high fantasy novel by American writer Lloyd Alexander, the second of five volumes in The Chronicles of Prydain. For 1966 it was a Newbery Honor book, runner-up for the year's "most distinguished contribution to American literature for children".The story continues the adventures of Taran, the Assistant Pig-Keeper, as he joins in a quest to capture the eponymous Magical Cauldron from Arawn Death-Lord.
“Child, child, do you not see? For each of us comes a time when we must be more than what we are.”
Source: The Chronicles of Prydain (1964–1968), Book III: The Castle of Llyr (1966), Chapter 1
Source: The Black Cauldron
“No matter what has happened, you're not a pig-boy; you're an Assistant Pig Keeper!”
Source: The Black Cauldron
Source: The Chronicles of Prydain (1964–1968), Book V : The High King (1968), Chapter 20
Source: The Black Cauldron
Context: Orgoch gave a most ungentle snort. Orddu, meanwhile, had unfolded a length of brightly woven tapestry and held it out to Taran.
“We came to bring you this, my duckling,” she said. “Take it and pay no heed to Orgoch’s grumbling. She’ll have to swallow her disappointment—for lack of anything better.”
“I have seen this on your loom,” Taran said, more than a little distrustful. “Why do you offer it to me? I do not ask for it, nor can I pay for it.”
“It is yours by right, my robin,” answered Orddu. “It does come from our loom, if you insist on strictest detail, but it was really you who wove it.”
Puzzled, Taran looked more closely at the fabric and saw it crowded with images of men and women, of warriors and battles, of birds and animals. “These,” he murmured in wonder, “these are of my own life.”
“Of course,” Orddu replied. “The pattern is of your choosing and always was.”
“My choosing?” Taran questioned. “Not yours? Yet I believed...” He stopped and raised his eyes to Orddu. “Yes,” he said slowly, “once I did believe the world went at your bidding. I see now it is not so. The strands of life are not woven by three hags or even by three beautiful damsels. The pattern indeed was mine. But here,” he added, frowning as he scanned the final portion of the fabric where the weaving broke off and the threads fell unraveled, “here it is unfinished.”
“Naturally,” said Orddu. “You must still choose the pattern, and so must each of you poor, perplexed fledglings, as long as thread remains to be woven.”
“Indeed, the more we find to love, the more we add to the measure of our hearts.”
Source: The Black Cauldron
“There is more honor in a field well plowed than in a field steeped in blood.”
Source: The Chronicles of Prydain (1964–1968), Book II: The Black Cauldron (1965), Chapter 3
Context: "I have marched in many a battle host," Adaon answered quietly, "but I have also planted seeds and reaped the harvest with my own hands. And I have learned there is greater honor in a field well plowed than in a field steeped in blood."
