“He worked night and day. He made a coat that would transform him; he would be more than a man; a winged creature, beautiful as light. All the birds brought him feathers. Even the eagle. Even the swan.”

“What happened to your foot?""I had a little disagreement with an eagle --stupid birds, eagles. He couldn't tell the difference between a hawk and a pigeon. I had to educate him. He bit me while I was tearing out a sizable number of his wing feathers.""Uncle," Polgara said reproachfully."He started it.”

“He was in a room of the Gesshuuji, which he had thought it would be impossible to visit. The approach of death had made the visit easy, had unloosed the weight that held him in the depths of being. It was even a comfort to think, from the light repose the struggle up the hill had brought him, that Kiyoaki, struggling against illness up that same road, had been given wings to soar with by the denial that awaited him.”

“He didn't care if Matt made him cuddly or made him hornier than he'd ever been or even made him a lovesick fool. James was keeping him. Hopefully Matt would want to keep James too.”

“It was the same night I gave myself to him completely, knowing that I would belong to him for as long as he wanted to keep me. And, as it turned out, even longer than that.”

“White angel wings, made up from thousands of short feathers, now surrounded him."Uh. Bird?" She pointed dumbly, unable to form a single coherent though more."Harpie." He gave her a glare that could have killed.”