Taro came into the room, strands of hair flying free of the tie at the back of his skull, sweat plastering his cream-colored shirt against his chest and back. I wished I had an artist's skill, that I could make renderings of him in all his states of beauty. He would never want to look at them, or even know about them. I would just like them for myself. Maybe he would want to see them when he was much older, and beautiful in a different way.

There was alliteration happening all over the place in that sentence.

Taro came into the room, strands of hair flying free of the tie at the back of his skull, sweat plastering his cream-colored shirt against his chest and back. I wished I had an artist's skill, that I could make renderings of him in all his states of beauty. He would never want to look at them, or even know about them. I would just like them for myself. Maybe he would want to see them when he was much older, and beautiful in a different way.

Flown Raven is the country,"I muttered. "City slave," he said. "Farm boy," I shot back. "I've never even seen a farm." "Don't trifle me with details.

You are trying to lure us into revealing information you're not entitled to? With chocolate and wine? Are you amateurs?

Sometimes I was so funny I couldn’t stand myself.

You get irritated when I say I'm not angry and you get irritated when I say I am angry. I can't win." "Because you just saying whatever you think will shut me up," he accused me. "Aye, but it's not working." "Argh!" was his response, and he charged on down the street.