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

Truth is when your mind and your gut agree.

I always knew it was ill-fated, but he truly believed I would be his bride. I guess I'd never realized that before. He had taken my mucker hand and looked at my mottled face and believed we would wed. And he hadn't seemed sorry. In fact, he'd swooped me up in a corridor and kissed me. That set me to crying.

... fantasy is not practice for what is real—fantasy is the opiate of women.

She put a wedge beside my heart And then she brought the mallet down She sang no song to guide her work I lost my heart without a sound

Careful with the accusations of insanity, oh my lady whose home is a tower with windows of brick, all for the sake of some skinny-ankled, laugh-prone boy of a khan.

I know they are naught things, but I devour novels.” (p. 57).