I still wake with your name on my lips every morning.

And then their voices stopped and their souls stood still and they ceased being who they had been. Because who they were had always been determined by him.

City people. They may know how to street fight but they don't know how to wade through manure.

In the end, the sum of my vices is all me.

Do you think people have noticed that I'm around?" "I notice when you're not. Does that count?

Finn, listen!" Trevanion said, his voice raw."I prayed to see you one more time. It's all I prayed for. Nothing more. And my prayers were answered. Go east, I'll lend them west." "We have a dilemma, then," Finnikin said fiercely. "Because I prayed that you would grow old and hold my children in your arms as you held me. My prayers have not been answered yet, Trevanion. So whose prayer is more worthy? Yours or mine?

Because without our language, we have lost ourselves. Who are we without our words?