Only priests and fools are fearless and I've never been on the best of terms with God.

Sought we the Scrivani word-work of Surthur Long-long in ledger all hope forgotten Yet fast-found for friendship fair the book-bringer Hot comes the huntress Fela, flushed with finding Breathless her breast her high blood rising To ripen the red-cheek rouge-bloom of beauty.

There are few things as nauseating as pure obedience.

I swear I've never met a man who has your knack for lack of social grace. If you weren't naturally charming, someone would have stabbed you by now.

Dawn was coming. The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts.

I decided to dub the room with the good chairs my lutery. Or perhaps my performatory. I would need a while to come up with something suitably pretentious.

You need to realize that most writing rules aren't laws, they're rules of thumb.