Sara

“Do not mistake me, Inrithi. In this much Conphas is right. You are all staggering drunks to me. Boys who would play at war when you should kennel with your mothers. You know nothing of war. War is dark. Black as pitch. It is not a God. It does not laugh or weep. It rewards neither skill not daring. It is not a trial of souls, nor the measure of wills. Even less is it a tool, a means to some womanish end. It is merely the place where the iron bones of the earth meet the hollow bones of men and break them.

You have offered me war, and I have accepted. Nothing more. I will not regret your losses. I will not bow my head before your funeral pyres. I will not rejoice at your triumphs. But I have taken the wager. I will suffer with you. I will put Fanim to the sword, and drive their wives and children to the slaughter. And when I sleep, I will dream of their lamentations and be glad of heart.”
― R. Scott Bakker, The Darkness That Comes Before

“I do not, as you know, take sufficient interest in dress to be able to describe the new fashions. Dress is a bore.”
― Bram Stoker, Dracula

“People, she was discovering, were like cockroaches: If you allowed one in, more were sure to follow.”
― Stacia Kane, City of Ghosts

“Her sigh felt dragged from the depths of her soul. Great. Working for Bump again.”
― Stacia Kane, City of Ghosts