She had never felt more alive than when she lay dying in Han Alister's arms.

Both Averill and Bayar were like actors speaking lines for their audience and not to each other.

The human mind had a remarkable ability both to discount what it sees and make reality conform to expectation.

Sometimes you have to go somewhere else to appreciate what we have here.

Han spotted a child‟s homespun dolly in the ditch, pressed into the mud. He reined in, meaning to climb down and fetch it so he could clean it up for his little sister. Then he remembered that Mari was dead and had no need of dollies anymore. Grief was like that. It gradually faded into a dull ache, until some simple sight or sound or scent hit him like a hammer blow.

And, like a fool, she kissed him back. Kissed him a way that would leave no doubt about the way she felt about him. Kissed him because she knew the chances were slim she'd have very many kisses like that in her lifetime. Which is a sad thing when you're only seventeen.

Outside the Weirwall, Jack could hear the thud of bodies colliding and the cries of the wounded. It seemed like a lot of noise. Even given the fact that Ellen was involved. "Why'd she go out there?" Jack demanded. "Why didn't you stop her?" Brooks spat on the ground. "Have you ever tried to stop Captain Stephenson from anythin'?