There is no shame in loving. If your septons say there is, your seven gods must be demons. In the isles we know better. Our gods gave us legs to run with, noses to smell with, hands to touch and feel. What mad cruel god would give a man eyes and tell him he must forever keep them shut, and never look at all the beauty in the world? Only a monster god, a demon of the darkness.

I have an instinctual distrust of conventional happy endings.

Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli.

If ice can burn, then love and hate can mate.

I work for two years on a book and it comes out and two days later I've got my first e-mail: When is the next one coming out?

she would die as she had lived, with an axe in her hand and a laugh upon her lips.

I have a hole where my heart should be, she thought, and nowhere else to go.