“Some said Delana was sucessful as a mediator because both sides would agree just to make her stop staring at them.”

“Mat had tried to make her say she saw a hat floating around Mat's head. That would persuade Tuon to stop trying to get rid of his, would it not?”

“Does it make you brave to stick your hand in a bear's mouth? Would you do it again just because you didn't die?”

“I might be able to help, Daigian," Nynaeve said, leaning forward, laying her hand on the other woman's knee. "If I were to attempt a Healing, perhaps...""No," the woman said curtly."But—""I doubt you could help.""Anything can be Healed," Nynaeve said stubbornly, "even if we don't know how yet. Anything save death.""And what would you do, dear?" Daigian asked.[...]"I could do something," Nynaeve said. "This pain you feel, it has to be an effect of the bond, and therefore something to do with the One Power. If the Power causes your pain, then the Power can take that pain away.""And why would I want that?" Daigian asked, in control once again."Well... well, because it's pain. It hurts.""It should," Daigian said. "Eben is dead. Would you want to forget your pain if you lost that hulking giant of yours? Have your feelings for him cut away like some spoiled chunk of flesh in an otherwise good roast?"Nynaeve opened her mouth, but stopped. Would she? It wasn't that simple—her feelings for Lan were genuine, and not due to a bond. He was her husband, and she loved him. Daigian had been possessive of her Warder, but it had been the affection of an aunt for her favored nephew. It wasn't the same.But would Nynaeve want that pain taken away? She closed her mouth, suddenly realizing the honor in Daigian's words. "I see. I'm sorry.”

“And for some reason, men and women who told the tale often found a need to add almost identical words. The storm is coming, they said, staring southward in worry. The storm is coming.”

“You will serve the Cyrstal Throne well. It would be a shame to see you assassinated too early. I will make certain that the first I send after you are newly trained, so that you may stop them with ease."-General Galgan to Mat”

“Elayne could not help herself. Nynaeve wielding her tongue like a needle, Cerandin stubborn as two mules, and now this. She threw back her head and screamed with frustration.When the sound died, it seemed as if the animals had quieted. Horse handlers stood about, staring at her. Coolly, she ignored them. Nothing could worm its way under her skin now. She was as calm as ice, perfectly in control of herself.“Was that a cry for help,” Birgitte said, tilting her head, “or are you hungry? I suppose I could find a wet nurse in—”Elayne strode away with a snarl that would have done any of the leopards proud.”