One heart cannot serve two masters.
When one consorts with assassins, one must expect to dance along the edge of a knife once or twice.
There is no shame in scars, Ismae.
Why be the sheep when you can be the wolf?
We are all of us, gods and mortals, made up of many pieces, some of them broken, some of them scarred, but none of them the total sum of who we are.
The pain of hope dying is worse than his fists and boots.