“Avevo Joscelin, il mio Compagno Perfetto, la bussola su cui era fisso il mio cuore.”

“We are alike, Joscelin and I, in that what we do, we do very well.”

“Joscelin, is love supposed to make you feel like you’re sick and dying, and mad enough to hit someone and drunk with joy, and your heart’s a boulder n your chest trying to burst into a thousand pieces all at once?” “Mm-hmm.” He finished his ale. “That would be love.”

“To my surprise, Joscelin rose. ‘Phedre-’ He began, then halted. Sitting below him, I watched him smile to himself, quiet and private. ‘Phedre yields with a willow’s grace,’ he said softly. ‘And endures with the strength of mountains. Without her, life would be calm; and yet lack all meaning.”

“By morning, Joscelin was resigned. "You know, betimes I think you are a little mad, Imriel no Montreve," he said to me in the courtyard outside the stable, holding the Bastard's reins."You never said that to Phedre," I reminded him."Ah, well." He grinned despite himself. "In her case, there is no question.”

“Quando l'Amore mi ha scacciata, è stata la Crudeltà ad avere pietà di me.”

“Se solo il mio cuore fosse pietra”