“Are you out of your princely wits?"What's he? Let me have his beard sawed off and his eyebrows filed more civil!”

“And the Prince stared at her like a man out of his wits.”

“His beard might once have reached to his waist, but his waist had grown off and left his beard high and dry.”

“Prince Ahmad crouched over the headless body, the scout at his side. "you say a mere priest bested you?" "He weilded his sword like a master. I never saw such a display." The prince mocked the soldier. "Then let us pray we don't meet the Pope.”

“He’d thought it would be the right thing to say, but she scoffed a little… and that, more than anything—more than the prospect of having his ribs crushed in or his face pulled off or his neck stretched on a rope—scared him out of his wits.”

“Livia.” He seemed thrilled to let the word roll off his tongue. “Do you know that I’m invisible?”“No one has really seen me in years.” Blake looked at the sky. “Sometimes I wonder how they know I don’t have a home. I try to dress decently.” He waved a hand at his jeans and army jacket. “I think it just seeps out of me. I’m not the same as everyone else.” He shook his head, his eyes reflecting a weary despair. As he looked at Livia again, the despair was chased away with a grin. “But when you saw me for the first time, you actually saw me. You saw me, and then you smiled like I was just the same as everyone else on that platform.”