Han made no effort to put up a brave front. Most of the time he just screamed himself hoarse, though a couple of times he amused himself by screaming Fionas's name as if he were in the throes of passion. FEEE-OHHH-NAAA! Lord Bayar made him pay for that, but afterward, Fiona didn't come down anymore, which Han appreciated.

He's not lazy. He's just highly inefficient.

Falling in love was like falling off a cliff. It felt pretty much like flying until you hit the ground.

I need to go to parties, Raisa mused, so I don't think so much.

A vocation is not something you slap on, like a coat of paint, and change whenever you want. A vocation is built into you. You have no choice. If you try to do something else, you fail.

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.

You look like a boy who has eaten the fruit of the tree of knowledge and doesn't like the taste.