Everybody was strange. In a fit of frustration, she scratched out strange and wrote the word CRACKPOTS in big letters.

His last thought was that it hadn't been stupidity that had allowed his son to enchant him so easily with words. It had been love.

What man can hate or love well when he is drugged?

Helda's been trying to impress me with the embroidery on the sheets. One more minute and I thought I might use them to hang myself." "My mother did the embroidery," Bittterblue said. Katsa clapped her mouth shut and glared at Helda. "Thank you, Helda, for mentioning that detail.

If we knew a person was going to die, we'd hold harder to the memories." Fire corrected him, in a whisper. "The good memories.

How absurd it was that in all seven kingdoms, the weakest and most vulnerable of people - girls, women - went unarmed and were taught nothing of fighting, while the strong were trained to the highest reaches of their skill.

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