“I want the freedom to carve and chisel my own face, to staunch the bleeding with ashes, to fashion my own gods out of my entrails...”

“I must shape my own coat according to my cloth, but it will not be after the fashion of this world, God willing, but fit for me.”

“You forgot to cough!” he said.“Sorry.” She coughed.“Your sneakiness is dangerous. Next time that chisel will lodge itself in my head.”“Now, Peder, there’s plenty of stone around here for carving. No need to practice on your own face.”He stroked his chin. “You’re right, my jaw is already chiseled to perfection.”She agreed, but she felt too silly to say so aloud.”

“If you want to make a movie out of my book, have one of these faces gently melt into my own, while I look.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind? I just got back and I can barely stand on my own. What do you want me to do? Bleed on them? (Fang)”

“Left with nothing but my own bloody fingertips, I let out a war cry of my own, raked my nails over its face, and fought like a girl.”