“Piers looked up at him. 'You're new. What's your name?' 'Neythen, my lord.''Sounds like a terrible illness. No, more like a bowel problem. I'm sorry, Lord Sandys, your son has contracted neythen and won't live a month. No, no, there's nothing I can do. Sandys would have preferred hearing that to syphilis.”

“Neythen looked perplexed. 'My mum always said I'm named after a saint, not an illness.''Which one?''Well he had his head chopped off, see? And then he picked it up and carried it down the road a time. All the way back home, I think.''Messy,' Piers said. 'Not to mention unlikely, though one has to think of chickens and their post-mortal abilities. Did she think that you would inherit the same gift?'Neythen blinked. 'No, my lord.''Perhaps she was just hopeful. It behooves mothers to look ahead to this sort of possibility, after all. I'm tempted to behead you just to see if she was right.Sometimes the most unlikely superstitions turn out to have a basis in fact.”

“i've been to see him... he looks a lot like you... (who are you?) i'm what's left.. maybe i'm all that ever was... (i meant your name) my name is of no importance... what about you? do you remember your true name?... (my true name ... is....)”

“I do believe that his given name is something odd. Peregrine, Penrose- Piers, that's it.""He sounds like a dock." Lord Sundron put in."Mrs. Hutchins called me a light frigate this morning," Linnet said "a dock might be just the thing for me.”

“Careful, Sandi. You're about to let your bulldog mouth overload your bird-dog bite.”

“The Lord would want you to be successful. He would. You are His sons and His daughters. He has the same kind of love and ambition for you that your earthly parents have. They want you to do well and you can do it.”