“But unshed tears can turn rancid. So can memory. So can biting your tongue. My bad nights were beginning. I couldn't sleep.”
“Tolerance! The virtue that makes one bite his tongue so that he can tear out his hair.”
“By the time I found sleep that night, back in the Hawk's Keep, my throat was tight with too many tears unshed, screams unuttered and prayers whose words I could never seem to find.”
“Who do you think keeps this country safe so you can sleep at night?”“I don’t sleep most nights. And to be honest, Your Grace, I don’t feel all that safe.”
“A rocket or a bridge. That's the only way I can really describe it. If there is a river between our sleeping bodies, this is the bridge that crosses it. ... I can just fit my fist around the base without waking him. I love it so much I want to bite it.”
“I go silent so I can write. When my tongue is wagging my fingers are silent.”