Rachel Hartman

Orma moved a pile of books off a stool for me but seated himself directly on another stack. This habit of his never ceased to amuse me. Dragons no longer hoarded gold; Comonot's reforms had outlawed it. For Orma and his generation, knowledge was treasure. As dragons through the ages had done, he gathered it and then he sat on it.

Was it probably true that reasoning beings were equal? It seemed more like a belief than a fact, even if I agreed with it. If you followed logic all the way back to its origin, did you inevitably end up at point of illogic, an article of faith?

I was drawn to his aloofness, the way cats gravitate toward people who__ rather avoid them.

I was just chased through St. Willibald__, and you know why? Because I was kind to a quig. I scrupulously hide every legitimate reason for people to hate me, and then it turns out they don__ need legitimate reasons. Heaven has fashioned a knife of irony to stab me with.

I scrupulously hide every legitimate reason for people to hate me, and it turns out they don__ need legitimate reasons. Heaven has fashioned a knife of irony to stab me with.

He was impugning my virtue. I ought to have been offended, but for some reason the idea tickled me. That could be my next career: instrument of torture! Seducing prisoners, and then revealing my dragon scales! They would confess out of sheer horror.

Oh, you humans may prefer empathy and mercy, but that's like intuiting the answer to an equation: you still have to go back and work the problem to be certain you were right. We can come to genuinely moral conclusions by our own paths.

So if the Infernum is an empy interior, what's Heaven in their conception?" I asked, nudging him."A second inside-out house, inside, or rather 'outside' the first," he said. "If you cross its threshold, you realize our world, for all its wonder, has been but a shdow, another kind of empitness. Heaven is more than this.

My own survival required me to counterbalance interesting with invisible.

Here there was no monster greater than the ragged mountains.

Let the one who seeks justice be just.

...emotions fly humans toward art

Metaphor is awkward, but emotion, by its nature, leaves you no more scalable approach.

My companions ate the bear. I found I had no appetite.

There are two sacred causes in this world,_ he said, holding up his pinkie and ring ringer. __hance and necessity. By chance I was there to help when you had need.

I understood something about myself as well, even if I didn't have the will to examine it just then.