Grief heals ... unshed tears fester like a canker in the soul.

This is the secret that none dares tell who fights for a cause. Dying, we are all alike.

We are meant to taste of life ... and drink the cup of it to the dregs, bitter and sweet alike.

And Kushiel sends no punishment that we are not fit to bear.

We pay for sins we do not remember, and seek to do a will we can scarce fathom. That is what it is, to be a god's chosen.

I know what you are. I've always known from the beginning, Kushiel's Chosen. It is folly, to make claim on one whom the gods have marked for their own. And unlike the others, I am no fool, to grasp at that which burns to the touch. What you have given..." she raised one hand, palm upward, the garnet seal dangling at her wrist, "... I hold in an open hand.

My lord. It is too much, and not enough