“Lord Loss sows all the sorrows of the world Lord Loss seeds the grief-starched treesIn the center of the web, lowly Lord Loss bows his head Mangled hands, naked eyes Fanged snakes his soul line Curled inside like textured sin Bloody, curdled sheets for skin In the center of the web, vile Lord Loss torments the deadOver strands of red, Lord Loss crawls Dispensing pain, despising all Shuns friends, nurtures foes Ravages hope, breeds woe Drinks moons, devours suns Twirls his thumbs till the reaper comesIn the center of the web, lush Lord Loss is all that’s left”

“As a warrior, she won't have allowed herself to mourn. But women can't make themselves as detached as men. Our hearts are bigger. We feel loss in a way men don't. Orna has the body and mind of a warrior but her heart is like mine, and I know inside she's weeping.”

“Fond as he was of Pongo, Lord Ickenham could not see him as a breaker of hearts. Yet it appeared plain that his loss had left a large gap in this girl's life. ”

“Watching the hole in the ever-fading light. It’s the size of a baby now, closing all the time. Narrower and narrower, until there’s barely room to fit an arm through. I’m thinking about quenching the light before the hole shuts—this is just torture—when a face suddenly appears. It’s Bran. The spell has passed and he’s come back. He wants to get through, to be with me. But the hole’s too small. He punches it, pulls at it, slips his fingers into the gap and strains with all his might—but it’s no good. The rock continues to grind together. The hole gets smaller, the width of a finger now.At the last moment, Bran presses his mouth up to the hole and roars with raw pain and loss, at the top of his voice, “Bec!” It’s the only time he’s ever uttered my name. Anyone’s name. His anguished cry stabs at my heart and tears spring to my eyes. I open my mouth to shout his own name back, to offer whatever small shred of comfort I can… but then the rock closes all the way and a fierce rumbling drowns out the echoes of Bran’s cry.I stare at the solid rock. My mouth closes. The light fades. Darkness.”

“The Lord compensates the faithful for every loss. That which is taken away from those who love the Lord will be added unto them in His own way. While it may not come at the time we desire, the faithful will know that every tear today will eventually be returned a hundredfold with tears of rejoicing and gratitude.”

“They used to call me Quicksilver,” he whispered, smiling hollowly. “Fastest hands in the world.” Then the smile vanished. his eyes flashed. And, like a silver of deadly mercury, he attacked…”

“Is it possible, that is, to love God no matter what? Job, through three tough tests—the loss of his possessions and children, the loss of his health, and the loss of his friends and their respect—answers in the affirmative. Yes, it is possible. In fact, it is necessary”