“How did you kill the Ashman in the forest last year?”“I shot him with an arrow.”“What kind of arrow?”“A sharp one.”Nate rolled his eyes. “Really, dude? A sharp one?”

“Gabriel shuffled around the trunk again, searching for faux arrows—arrows designed to injure but not kill. “All these arrows are sharp—and have blood on them.”“Yes, well, I left my cotton candy arrows at home next to my teddy bear.”

“Cupid's arrow is straight and sharp, never misses its mark, but it leaves one hell of an exit wound.”

“I can't have swords." Key answered.No swords?"They're sharp."That's why they're good."I can't have daggers or darts. Or arrows, either."Why? Arrows are the best."They can kill people."That's the coolest part!”

“If one comes across a person who has been shot by an arrow one does not spend time wondering about where the arrow came from, or the caste of the individual who shot it, or analysing what type of wood the shaft is made of, or the manner in which the arrowhead was fashioned. Rather one should focus on immediately pulling out the arrow.”

“I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.”