Annie

“He stands by a window. A flock of starlings settles among the tight black buds of a bare tree. Then, like black buds unfolding, they open their wings; they flutter and sing, stirring everything into motion, air, wings, black notes in music. He becomes aware that he is watching them with pleasure: that something almost extinct, some small gesture towards the future, is ready to welcome the spring; in some spare, desperate way, he is looking forward to Easter, the end of Lenten fasting, the end of penitence. There is a world beyond this black world. There is a world of the possible. A world where Anne can be queen is a world where Cromwell can be Cromwell. He sees it; then he doesn't. The moment is fleeting. But insight cannot be taken back. You cannot return to the moment you were in before.”
― Hilary Mantel, Wolf Hall

“I fear you not,” said the creature hoarsely, to everyone’s utter astonishment. Then the creature held out a paw. Reynevan would have sprung back had he not been too afraid to move. He suddenly realised in astonishment that the paw was pointing at the arms on Zawisza’s shield. Then, to his even greater astonishment, the creature pointed at the cauldron with the herbal infusion.

“Sulima and a herbalist,” the creature croaked. “Rectitude and knowledge. What is there to fear? I fear not. My name is Hans Mein Igel.”

“Greetings to you, Hans Mein Igel. Be you hungry? Or thirsty?”

“No. It came to sit down. And listen. For it heard their words. And came to listen.”

“Please, be our guest.”

The creature approached the campfire, bristled up into a ball and stopped moving.

“Aaaye.” Zawisza’s composure was truly astonishing. “Where was I?”

“You were…” Reynevan swallowed, regaining his speech. “You were saying nec Hercules.”
― Andrzej Sapkowski, Narrenturm

“And, by my soul, this pale and angry rose, as cognizance of my blood-drinking hate, will I forever, and my faction, wear until it wither with me to my grave, or flourish to the height of my degree.”
― William Shakespeare, Henry VI, Part 1

“I was dying of thirst when you gave me water, yet it was not the water alone that saved me. It was the strength of the hands that gave it.”
― Ursula K. Le Guin, The Tombs of Atuan