Dustfinger closed his eyes and listened. He was home again.

Sometimes, when you're so sad you don't know what to do, it helps to be angry.

I don't like to eat the same dish every day, so I read very different things.

Blue as the evening sky, blue as cranesbill flowers, blue as the lips of drowned men and the heart of a blaze burning with too hot a flame. Yes, sometimes it was hot in this world, too. Hot and cold, light and dark, terrible and beautiful, it was everything all at once. It wasn't true that you felt nothing in the land of Death. You felt and heard and smelled and saw, but your heart remained strangely calm, as if it were resting before the dance began again. Peace. Was that the word?

Read – and be curious. And if somebody says to you: 'Things are this way. You can't change it' - don't believe a word.

Fire and water," he said, "don't really mix. You could say they're incompatible. But when they do love each other, they love passionately.

perhaps because this time not fear but love made him read.