“There always seem to be very rich people, no matter how poor the country,” Thenoclon said.”

“Strangely enough, I don't seem to tolerate food in great quantities or when it is too rich anymore.”“That's perfectly all right. Most people dig their graves with their own teeth as it is.”

“And what?" Arranulf yawned."How did it go?""How did what go?""Don't play with my feet, as we say in Ramaldah. You were seen, Landemere.”

“A while ago?” Anaxantis asked. “Yes, he raped me a while ago. Exactly nine months and two days ago. What's that? Nine months or nine minutes. It's the same. And it is in the past, you say? Then why is it still happening, every day, every time I close my eyes? Every time I hear someone behind me, and I don't know who it is? How is it that I get an almost irresistible urge to kill anyone who happens to touch me unexpectedly? Tell me, Hemarchidas, how do I forgive, let alone forget, something that is still happening, that keeps happening over and over? How? How do I do that?”

“He himself didn't see it as exceptionally altruistic, because he had understood one can't be truly happy in isolation or, worse, among unhappy people. The best protection against danger, unhappiness and the sordidness of human existence is to be surrounded by people who love you.”

“Damn you, Anaxantis. You and your brother were supposed to sit on your princely asses, organize the occasional banquet, use your high sounding titles to ravish the local girls, or boys, or sheep, whatever takes your fancy for all I care, and leave serious matters to your elders.”

“Just don’t stare at my ass, Landemere,” he added.“I wasn’t staring at your ass,” Arranulf, who had been staring at his ass, said.”