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There’s something about these moments when we’re writing music that I absolutely love. All my worries and thoughts about everything wrong in my life seem to go away for the short times we write together. It’s nice.

“What sort of idiot gets himself knifed and doesn’t even stop to take care of it? Couldn’t you tell how badly you were bleeding? You’re lucky you’re not dead, tearing around the countryside all night, brawling and fighting and throwing yourself off horses… hold still, you bloody fool.”

“Kaz convinced Per Haskell to pay off my indenture. I would have died at the Menagerie.” “You may still die in the Dregs.” Inej’s dark eyes had glinted. “I may. But I’ll die on my feet with a knife in my hand.”

The wind changes. Trees rustle. The Erumpent takes a deep breath in - she can smell the new, more powerful aroma coming from Jacob. Jacob looks around. A seal sits behind him looking guilty, before cheekily running away.

He would tell her courthouse news, and would say he hoped with all his heart she'd have a good day tomorrow. (...) It was times like these when I thought my father, who hated guns and had never been to any wars, was the bravest man who ever lived.

"The truth is I am not one of those who find their satisfaction in one person, or in infinity. The private room bores me, also the sky. My being only glitters when all its facets are exposed to many people. Let them fail and I am full of holes, dwindling like burnt paper."

Look up, I silently beseeched him. Push back. He’s wrong, and we’re right. Lucien’s jaw tightened. That force thrummed in me again, seeping out, spearing for Lucien. Do not back down— Then I was gone.

“What else is different now?” I asked, trailing him up the marble front steps. He didn’t stop this time, didn’t even look over his shoulder to see me as he said, “Everything.”

Home was a group of wagons and songs around a campfire. When my troupe was killed, it was more than the loss of my family and childhood friends. It was like my entire world had been burned down to the waterline.

He called the wind and the wind came. (...) So I invited him into our troupe, hoping to find answers to my questions. Though I didn’t know it at the time, I was looking for the name of the wind.

“How do we know we can trust you?” I asked, feeling sick even asking the question. “‘The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.’”

[Magnus] “Your father is the finest king Limeros has ever known,” the man exclaimed. “You should be very proud to be his son.” Magnus’s lips thinned. Proud was one word he’d never use to describe how he felt toward his father, today or any other day. A fake smile stretched his cheeks. “Of course. And never prouder than I am at this very moment.”

“I want to see Mia,” Adam says. Willow turns to look at Adam and it’s like someone has unscrewed her valve, letting all her air escape. She deflates. She reaches out and touches Adam’s cheek. “Of course you do. (...) She needs you now. More than ever.”

“I woke up this morning as one person,” I mutter, more to myself than to him, “and now I’m supposed to be someone else entirely.” “You can do this.” I feel him take a step toward me, his heat filling the room in a way that makes my skin prickle. But I don’t look up. I won’t. “How do you know?” “Because you must.”

For maybe twenty seconds they sat there. He was up ahead, only thirty feet from her. She could still do it. Get out and run to Harry's right door, climb in over the knapsacks and cooler and tripods. Since Robert Kincaid had driven away from her last Friday, she realized, in spite of how much she thought she'd cared for him then, she had nonetheless badly underestimated her feelings.

[Bran] If they stayed here, hidden down beneath Tumbledown Tower, no one would find them. He would stay alive. And crippled. (…) He balled his hands into fists. “I want to fly”, he told them. “Please. Take me to the crow."

One way or another I’m going to have to deal with it. Except I can’t. I can’t deal with it at all. The very idea makes me want to pound my head against the wall and smash things. The idea of DiMarco, or anyone, holding her, touching her, kissing her … A deafening bang, a blinding crack, pain shooting up my arm before I realize I’ve punched the wall with all my might.