He doesn't know what to make of me," Mat said softly. "How very uncommon. I can't think of anyone else who has reacted that way to you, Mat.

Let most men have a finger and they will have the whole hand before you know. Let a clan cheif have a finger and he will have the entire arm.

If any of these women had been here instead of Nynaeve, the world would have ended.

Juilin," she asked hesitantly, "what were you going to do with the salt and cooking oil? Not exactly," she added more quickly. "Just a general idea." He looked at her for a moment. "I do not know. But they did not, either. That is the trick of it; their minds made up worse then I ever could. I have seen a tough man break when I sent for a basket of figs and some mice.

Often you don't know whether a woman is friend, enemy or lover until it is too late. Sometimes, she is all three.

It's not evil, Rand. I know something evil when I smell it. This isn't evil, it's just incredibly stupid.

Women," Mat declared as he rode Pips down the dusty, little-used road, "are like mules." He frowned. "Wait. No. Goats. Women are like goats. Except every flaming one thinks she's a horse instead, and a prize racing mare to boot. Do you understand me, Talmanes?" "Pure poetry, Mat," Talmanes said, tamping the tabac down into his pipe.