The harp sounds at each passing breeze, but that does not mean the tune is masterfully played.

Let the warriors clamor after gods of blood and thunder; love is hard, harder than steel and thrice as cruel.

Joscelin, is love supposed to make you feel like you’re sick and dying, and mad enough to hit someone and drunk with joy, and your heart’s a boulder n your chest trying to burst into a thousand pieces all at once?” “Mm-hmm.” He finished his ale. “That would be love.

I preferred a hard truth to a well-meant lie.

There is as much deception in noise as there is in silence

We may not have demon fathers dangling offers of infernal power before us, but everyone understands what it means to struggle with temptation or resist the urge to give in to our baser natures.

When Love cast me out, it was Cruelty who took pity upon me