“How can you expect to write if you can't cry....Ling”

“That will solve nothing, my lord.” His wife strode into the kitchen, stiff pride shining in her eyes. “I told you to keep her in hand.” Brodick glared at his cousin, wondering just when his life had turned inside out. Druce scowled at the sweet smile Brodrick’s wife cast toward him. He lifted his finger and pointed at her. “She bit me.”

“At first, there is something you expect of life. Later, there is what life expects of you. By the time you realize these are the same, it can be too late for expectations. What we are being, not what we are to be. They are the same thing.”

“So long as you write it away regularly nothing can really hurt you.”

“We are not the jobs we doOr the objects we possessOr the media we consume.We are fragile bones.Our brother's as delicate as we feel inside ourselves.”

“My dear, how can I make you perceive that there is no danger where there is nothing but love and understanding?”

“It's nervous work. The state you need to write in is the state that others are paying large sums of money to get rid of.”