“...I know that in your heart you miss all those wonderful moments you spent with my father --watching him gnaw on the furniture, listening to his insane gibbering, and enjoying all those playful blows to the stomach and kicks to the head with which he demonstrated his affection for his wives.--King Urgit”

“You're a cynic," Urgit accused.Silk shook his head. "No, Your Majesty. I'm a realist.”

“Now what?” Urgit warily asked his bride-to-be.“Am I disturbing your Majesty?” Prala asked.“…You always disturb me, my beloved,” he answered her question, spreading his arms extravagantly.”

“Behold the Drojim Palace," King Urgit said extravagantly to Sadi, "the hereditary home of the House of Urga.""A most unusual structure, You Majesty," Sadi murmured."That's a diplomatic way to put it." Urgit looked critically at his palace. "It's gaudy, ugly, and in terribly bad taste. It does, however, suit my personality almost perfectly.”

“...You're going to stay here and help Daran in every way you can. Don't let him sink into melancholia the way his father has...Now, pull yourself together. Blow your nose and fix your face. Daran's talking to the Rivan Warder right now. I'll take you to where they are, and then I have to leave.""You're not even going to stay for the funeral?""I've got the funeral in my heart, Pol, the same as you have. No amount of ceremony's going to make it go away. Now go fix your face. You look awful.”

“Sparhawk grinned. "If Martel finds out that he's drinking again, he'll reach down his throat and pull his heart out." "Can you actually do that to a man?" "You can if your arm's long enough, and if you know what you're looking for.[...]”

“When he reached out with both huge hands to grasp me, I ducked under them and stepped forward, smoothly pulling my knife out of my sleeve. Then, with one quick swipe, I sliced him across the belly. I wasn't certain enough of his anatomy to try stabbing him in the heart. As big as he was, his ribs were probably as thick as my wrist. He stared at me in utter amazement. Then he looked down at the entrails that came boiling out of the gaping wounds that ran from hip to hip across his lower belly."I think you dropped something there, Grul," I suggested.He clutched at his spilling entrails with both hands, a look of consternation on his brutish face. "'Grat cut Grul's belly," he said. "Make Grul's insides fall out.""Yes, I noticed that. Did you want to fight some more, Grul? I think you could spend your time better by sewing yourself back together. You're not going to be able to move very fast with your guts tangled around your feet.""'Grat is not nice," he accused mournfully, sitting down and holding his entrails in his lap.”