Nothing made you feel so useless as another person's grief.

Brimstone once told me that to stay true in the face of evil is a feat of strength.

It was sadness, lostness, and the worst thing about it was the way it seemed like a default—like it was there all the time, and all her other expressions were just an array of masks she used to cover it up.

She tried to pray, but she had only ever prayed at night, and it seemed to her that the moons made poor protectors when angels chose to hunt by day.

No, tiny violent one.

A thousand things might have stopped me from being here right now, but instead, a thousand things brought me here.

...I crave a shawl." He was tense with anger but his hands remained gentle at her waist. He said, "I can make you a shawl." She cocked her head. "You knit? Well. That's an unusual accomplishment in a soldier.