I wondered what you'd have on the side with a plate of Deep Fried Anxiety. Pickles? Coleslaw? Potato-strychnine mash?

Cats were often familiars to workers of magic because to anyone used to wrestling with self-willed, wayward, devious magic--which was what all magic was--it was rather soothing to have all the same qualities wrapped up in a small, furry, generally attractive bundle that...might, if it were in a good mood, sit on your knee and purr. Magic never sat on anybody's knee and purred.

I don't believe in fate," she said at last. "But I do believe in...loopholes. I think a lot of what keeps the world going is the result of accidents — happy or otherwise — and taking advantage of these.

You are attempting to be logical, I suspect, and logic has little to do with government, and nothing at all to do with military administration.

Can't all beasts be tamed?

One doesn't generally look into mirrors when one is especially angry; one has better things to do, like pace the floor or throw things.

But it was equally clear to her that this was her fate, that she had called its name and it had come to her, and she could do nothing now but own it.