She would thump them both, and she would apologize to neither.

She crossed the room to him, put her arms around him, clung to him, turning her face to the side, learning all at once that it was awkward to show a person all of one's love when one's nose was broken.

Art glows with faith even in its weakest parts. At every moment, writing is an act of self-confidence – the sheerest, most determined, most stubborn self-belief. You CAN have faith and doubt at the same time; the most insecure writer on the planet has faith that shines just as bright as her doubt, and she deserves props for that. It might be hidden deep, she might not feel it and you might not see it, but it’s in there, or she wouldn’t be able to write.

She would like to restrain from cruelty and receive no admiration for it.

Roen snorted. "You two have the strangest relationship in the Dells." Archer smiled slightly. "She won't consent to make it a marriage." "I can't imagine what's stopping her. I don't suppose you've considered being less munificent with your love?" "Would you marry me, Fire, if I slept in no one's bed but yours?" He knew the answer to that, but it didn't hurt to remind him. "No, and I should find my bed quite cramped.

If I wanted to stun anyone at dinner, I'd hit them in the face.

I told you before, Katsa. I won't fight when you're angry. I won't solve a disagreement between us with blows." He lifted the ice and fingered his jaw. He moaned and held the ice to his face again. "What we do in the practice rooms-that's to help each other. We don't use it against each other. We're friends, Katsa. We're too dangerous to each other. And even if we weren't, it's not right.