Her heart ached as though a knife had quietly slipped between her ribs.

Don’t worry,” Marya whispered, kissing his forehead. “My old bones will follow yours soon enough.

Well enough. I won't ask you if your love is true or any of that rot—it's not my place to judge. After all, I'm a naked woman chained to a wall; I've no business questioning the lifestyles of wine-makers or anyone else.

Perhaps all a Tsaritsa is is a beautiful cold girl in the snow, looking down at someone wretched, and not yielding.

When one is traveling, everything looks brighter and lovelier. That does not mean it IS brighter and lovelier; it just means that sweet, kindly home suffers in comparison to tarted-up foreign places with all their jewels on.

Do not ruin today with mourning tomorrow.

Respect me. Be proud, and if you love me, a little afraid, because love so often looks like fear. We are alike. We are alike.