The Stormlight rising from his exposed skin was enough to illuminate the chasm, and it cast shadows on the walls as he ran. Those seemed to become figures, crafted by the bones and branches stretching from the heaps on the ground. Bodies and souls. His movement made the shadows twist, as if turning to regard him.

Yes, Bastille. I keep trying to get killed because it's inconvenient for you.

Have you finally grown so jealous of my impeccable fashion sense that you've decided to have me disposed of?

Ah, the outdoors,' Shallan said. 'I visited that mythical place once.

Women? Women are like...thunderstorms. They're beautiful to look at, and sometimes they're nice to listen to-but most of the time they're just plain inconvenient.

Eternity ended ten years ago.

To age truly was to suffer the ultimate treason, that of one's body against oneself.