A woman sat upon the throne in the glassite room I almost recalled, and her hair was green, though streaked with silver, and her eyes were round as moons of jade and her brows rose like the wings of olive gulls. Her mouth was small, her chin was small; her cheeks were high and wide and rounded.
I love that last sentence, the repetition of the clause structure, then the shifting to another clause structure within which there is a different kind of repetition. It sounds almost like poetry to me, and I'm very glad that I'm hearing this book read aloud instead of reading it silently to myself.
The blood billowed above them, and I suddenly realized I had known mad, sad, bad Vincent Van Gogh, and it was really too bad he couldn't have painted this.
I love the rhythm of "had ... mad, sad, bad ... Van Gogh," though I'm not so sure about the repetition of the word "bad" later in the sentence.
The book is full of alliteration, repetition, rhyme, and vivid, dream-like imagery. I don't remember The Lord of Light (the only other Zelazny I've read) being so poetic, but I wasn't hearing it read aloud, and that probably makes a big difference.