I'm not good at love. I'm like a barbed creature. I push everyone I love away.

Men are daft around women, incautious and boastful.

Danzhol. The one with the marriage proposal and the objections to the town charter in central Monsea. "Bacon," Bitterblue muttered. "Bacon!" she repeated, then carefully made her way up the spiral stairs.

I wish people would stop hitting Po," whispered Bitterblue. "Well," Giddon said. "Yes. I'm hoping Skye is following my model. Punch Po; go on a long trip; feel better; come back and make up.

This may be a thing you neither want nor need," she said. "But I'd rather you have it, wishing didn't, than not have it and wish you did.

He made her drunk, this man made her drunk; and every time his eyes flashed into hers she could not breathe.

I don't understand your book. Isn't every book a book of words?