The cat wrinkled its nose and managed to look unimpressed. "Calling cats," it confided, "tends to be a rather overrated activity. Might as well call a whirlwind.

Nobody will ever hurt her. She’ll just smile her faint vague wonderful smile and walk away.

Here, far from our homes, we will be forgotten by our gods.

But standing in that hallway, it was all coming back to me. Memories were waiting at the edges of things, beckoning to me.

Agnes was the worst prophet that's ever existed. Because she was always right. That's why the book never sold.

Pain shared, my brother, is pain not doubled but halved. No man is an island

Human beings do not like being pushed about by gods. They may seem to, on the surface, but somewhere on the inside, underneath it all, they sense it, and they resent it.