Dear Brigan, she thought to herself. People want incongruous, impossible things. Horses do, too.

I’m as old as both of you,” she said, even though she suspected she wasn’t, “and I’m smarter, and I can probably fight as well as you can.

You’re crying.” “I’m not.” “Right,” he said mildly. “I suppose you got rained on.

If we're to be judged by our parents and grandparents, then we all may as well impale ourselves upon jagged bits of rock.

Have you ridden over anyone you shouldn't?

Things don't ever stay the same. Natural beginnings come to natural or unnatural ends.

Please, Katsa," he finally said. "At least talk to me". She swung around to face him. "What it there to talk about? You know how I feel, and what I think about it." "And what I feel? Doesn't it matter?