Some men die for lack of love…some die because of it. Think about it." - Daemon

A woman with an education may be able to spend more time sitting in a chair instead of lying on her back. A sound advantage, I should think.

Some men die for lack of love…some die because of it. Think about it." - Daemon

Sylvia had given him a scalding lecture, the gist of it being that whatever a woman enjoyed wearing was feminine and anything she didn't enjoy wearing wasn't, and if he was too stubborn and old fashioned to understand that, he could go and soak his head in a bucket of cold water. He hadn't quite forgiven her yet for saying they would have to look hard to find a bucket big enough to fit his head in to, but he admired the sass behind the remark.

Lucivar winced. "She guzzled half the flask — and it wasn't one of his home brews, it was the concoction you created." Jaenelle’s eyes widened. “You let her drink a ‘gravedigger’?” “No no no,” Wilhelmina said, shaking her head. “You shouldn’t ever drink a gravedigger until he’s had a bath.” She smiled placidly when Jaenelle and Lucivar just stared at her. “Mother Night,” Lucivar muttered. “Do you know that song?” Wilhelmina asked Jaenelle.

We know how it ends practically before it starts. That's why stories appeal to us. They give us the clarity and simplicity our real lives lack.

There are some questions that shouldn't be asked until a person is mature enough to appreciate the answers.