Gratitude takes less energy than anger.

It was a hurting tune, resigned, a cry of heartache for all in the world that fell apart. As ash rose black against the brilliant sky, Fire's fiddle cried out for the dead, and for the living who stay behind to say goodbye.

But everyone has some kind of power to hurt people.

Something caught in her throat at this second thanks, when she'd threatened him so brutally. When you're a monster, she thought, you are thanked and praised for not behaving like a monster. She would like to restrain from cruelty and receive no admiration for it.

It hurt her eyes, almost, Ror City; and it didn't surprise her that Po should come from a place that shone.

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

It humbles me, but it doesn't humiliate me.