It made Fire so angry, the thought of such a medicine, a violence done to herself to stop her from creating anything like herself. And what was the purpose of these eyes, this impossible face, the softness and the curves of this body, the strength of this mind; what was the point, if none of the men who desired her were to give her any babies, and all it ever brought her was grief? What was the purpose of a woman monster?

If I'd been trying to kill him, he'd be dead.

Everyone wants a bit of something beautiful.

Why does everybody throw every troublesome thing into the river?

Sit, Your High Majestic Lord Princes," she said. She yanked a chair from the table and sat herself down. "You're in fine temper," Raffin said. "Your hair is blue," Katsa snapped back.

Your brand of comfort bears some similarity to your tactical offense.

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