Only the man who has known freedom Can define his prison.

Even across the dark, even across the loss, even across the emptiness, soul will speak to soul

And what would they be scared of? There's nothing to fear in a perfect world, is there?

Despair is deep. An abyss that swallows dreams. A wall at the world's end. Behind it I await death. Because all our work has come to this.

I always was going to be a writer. The other jobs were just to keep me in food. Though I enjoyed the archaeology.

I remember a story of a girl in Paradise who ate an apple once. Some wise Sapient gave it to her. Because of it she saw things differently. What had seemed gold coins were dead leaves. Rich clothes were rags of cobweb. And she saw there was a wall around the world, with a locked gate.

Chloe turned to Vetch. The poet said gently, "You see, you do have power. Words give you power, to create or destroy." His eyes flickered to Clare. "Even to forgive.