Clearly she was expected to say something, but panic at having to speak stole the thoughts from her head.

I am not sure I am ready to know what I think about that, so I dare not write it out.

When you get tired of worrying and mourning your horse and trying not to be afraid, tell me and I'll do it for you a while so you can shut your eyes and sleep peaceful.

As a general rule, writing is very inconvenient.

She closed the book and put her cheek against it. There was still an odor of a library on it, of dust, leather, binding glue, and old paper, one book carrying the smell of hundreds.

Enna leaned back her head and laughed at the sky. 'Of course he wasn't! Who could kill Razo?

Truth is when your mind and your gut agree.