Part of avoiding thoughts about something was not encouraging opportunities for that something to makes itself felt.

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.

Ideas were growing in all directions and dimensions; they were becoming a sculpture, or a castle. And then everyone left her, to return to their own affairs; and she was alone, and empty and unbelieving again.

She'd lost her fury, somewhere, as they'd talked. She didn't feel it anymore. She wished she did, because she preferred it to the emptiness that had settled in its place.

He held up a finger and went to the hallway, where he tripped over Blotchy, and then over the two monster cats madly pursuing Blotchy. Swearing, he leaned over the landing and called to the guard that unless the kingdom fell to war or his daughter was dying, he better not be interrupted until further notice.

I’m suspicious of the notion of a single book that would benefit everyone to read.

She couldn't steal herself back from Randa only to give herself away again - belong to another person, be answerable to another person, build her very being around another person.