“Your fey cousin here has the miraculous ability to hold his liquor--and mine, and yours, and the king's, and half the country's, I expect.”

“One half of me is yours, the other half is yours,Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours,And so all yours.”

“My father says there are more than twenty thousand turned out for the king. It seems that most men think that we will win, that York will be captured and killed, though the king in his tender heart has said he will forgive them all if they will surrender.~Will there be another battle?~Unless York decides he cannot face the king in person. It is one sort of sin to kill your friends and cousins, quite another to order your bowmen to fire at the king's banner and him beneath it. What if the king is killed in battle? What if York brings his broadsword down on the king's sanctified head?”

“Faith, in the sense in which I am here using the word, is the art of holding on to things your reason has once accepted, in spite of your changing moods.”

“I half expected you to whip out your dick and pee on me as you snarled at him and marked your territory.”

“Expecting anybody else?' Shane asked Eve. 'Your distant cousin Jack the Ripper dropping by too?''Screw you, Collins.”