“Chronicler picked up his pen, but before he could dip it, Kvothe held up a hand. "Let me say one thing before I start. I've told stories in the past, painted pictures with words, told hard lies and harder truths. Once, I sang colors to a blind man. Seven hours I played, but at the end he said he saw them, green and red and gold. That, I think, was easier than this. Trying to make you understand her with nothing more than words. You have never seen her, never heard her voice. You cannot know.”

“Lance told me his father didn’t think much of him. “He wishes I was better. More better. At everything. I don’t do anything right, you know, Stevie. Nothing.” He said this matter-of-factly. He believed it as truth. Polly told me her father never said anything nice to her, but she kept trying as hard as she could to make him pay her some attention. “He always says, ‘Don’t get fat as your mother has,’ but I don’t think Mom’s fat at all, but I try not to eat much, but he keeps saying it to me. Do you think I’m fat, Stevie? When my hair is messy do you think I look like a stray...”

“Greedy for more?"Grinding his hardness against her hip,he nuzzled her neck,her ear,murmuring words in Russian.His warn breaths against her made her shiver wildly."Wh-what did you say?""I talked filth in your ear."Voice gone ragged,he said,"I told you that you've got the prettiest little pussy I've ever seen,and then I told you what I'm going to do with it.”

“Before I go," he said, and paused -- "I may kiss her?"It was remembered afterwards that when he bent down and touched her face with his lips, he murmured some words. The child, who was nearest to him, told them afterwards, and told her grandchildren when she was a handsome old lady, that she heard him say, "A life you love.”

“His heart actually stumbled when he remembered her pain. He immediately knelt by her head.“Eve, how can I fix this? Tell me what to do. I’ll do anything.” He moved her hair out of her face.Eve let his words lay in the room with them for a while before she uttered her blasphemous ones. “When I’m with you, it doesn’t hurt as bad.”He picked her up again, surprised—now that he could think—at how much she weighed. This girl’s pure muscle.He sat on the couch with her on his lap. Starting over. “I’m so sorry, Eve.”Eve touched the new marks on his chest, lines that linked all his past violence with a path of red, new pain. “I know you are, Beck. I know you are.”

“Years after the war, after marriages, children, divorces, books, he came to Paris with his wife. He phoned her. It's me. She recognized him at once from the voice. He said, I just wanted to hear your voice. She said, it's me, hello. He was nervous, afraid, as before. His voice suddenly trembled. And with the trembling, suddenly, she heard again the voice of China. He knew she'd begun writing books, he'd heard about it through her mother whom he'd met again in Saigon. And about her younger brother, and he'd been grieved for her. Then he didn't know what to say. And then he told her. Told her that it was as before, that he still loved her, he could never stop loving her, that he'd love her until death.”