“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.”

“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.”

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

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

“I wondered if he could ever understand that it was a blessing, not a sin, to be graced with more than one love.It could be complicated; of course it could be complicated. And it opened one up to the possibility of more pain and loss.Still, it was a blessing I would never relinquish. Love, genuine love, was always a cause for joy.”

“There are those who do not hold that there is any innate goodness to mankind. To them I say, had you lived my life, you would not believe it. I have known the depths to which mortals are capable of descending, and I have seen the heights. I have seen how kindness and compassion may grow in the unlikeliest of places, as the mountain flower forces its way through the stern rock.”