I don't understand your book. Isn't every book a book of words?

If we're to be judged by our parents and grandparents, then we all may as well impale ourselves upon jagged bits of rock.

Alone with Giddon again, Bitterblue considered him, rather liking the mud streaks on his face. He looked like a handsome sunken rowboat.

That was what they did with themselves, those two Gracelings, along with a small band of friends: They stirred up trouble on a serious scale—bribery, coercion, sabotage, organized rebellion—all directed at stopping the worst behavior of the world’s most seriously corrupt kings.

You're afraid of your own anger.

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

It's hard to wake from a nightmare when the nightmare is real.