“The Goddess has a fourth face. It is secret, and you should prey, as I do, as I do Igraine, that Morgause will never wear that face.”

“To think, for instance, that I have never been aware before how many faces there are. There are quantities of human beings, but there are many more faces, for each person has several. There are people who wear the same face for years; naturally it wears out, it gets dirty, it splits at the folds, it stretches, like gloves one has worn on a journey. These are thrifty, simple people; they do not change their face, they never even have it cleaned. It is good enough, they say, and who can prove to them the contrary? The question of course arises, since they have several faces, what do they do with the others? Thhey store them up. Their children will wear them. But sometimes, too, it happens that their dogs go out with them on. And why not? A face is a face.”

“What term do you employ when you speak of your progenitor?"I answered with the term I'd always wanted to employ."Sonovabitch.""To his face?" she asked."I never see his face.""He wears a mask?""In a way, yes. Of stone. Of absolute stone.”

“There is a beautiful transparency to honest disciples who never wear a false face and do not pretend to be anything but who they are.”

“Am I really going to die?” Cimil’s face lit up with shock. “Jeez. What kind of goddess do you think I am? We just met, and I only kill people I know.”

“You must be mistaken," Isabel said, unconcerned by the insult that the words carried."I assure you i am not. Voluptas is nearly always portrayed wrapped in roses. If that were not enough, her faces confirms her identity.""You cannot tell a goddess from a face carved in marble," she scoffed."You can tell Voluptas by her face.""I've never even heard of this goddess, and you know what she looks like?""She is the goddess of sensual pleasure."Isabel's mouth fell open at the words. She could not think of a single thing to say in response. "Oh”