Only a person with the true heart of a dictionary-writer would be lying in bed, three days after being stabbed in the gut, worrying about his P's.

And she would protect him as fiercely, if it were ever his need- if a fight ever became too much for him or if he needed shelter, or food, or a fire in the rain. Or anything she could provide. She would protect him from anything.

Our own story is even more important for us to know than history.

I wouldn't marry Giddon to save my life," Katsa said. "Not even to save yours." "Well." Raffin's eyes were full of laughter. "I'd leave that part out.

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.

While I was looking the other way your fire went out. Left me with cinders to kick into dust, what a waste of the wonder you were