“Joy, oh joy. He’d rather have his entrails pulled out through his nostrils.’ (Fang)”

“I am merely biding my time. (Stryder)For what? (Rowena)For the moment when I am out of this cell and am able to wreak havoc on the one who put me here. I’m going to pull out his innards through his nostrils and dance around his entrails. (Stryder)”

“His joy swept out and away from him, as rays shooting through every part of the world.”

“She smelled him. The blood was rushing through his veins. She could sniff out the heat in his body. His odour saturated her nostrils and filled her lungs.”

“The greatest joy of the oppressed people, is enjoying his freedom while,the greatest misfortune of the oppressors is to suffer for the joy of his people.”

“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.”