The irony of her story is merely that her love became, in the end, her motive rather than her goal, the doorway rather than the house. - Tanith Lee

Sorry," I said sweetly, "I'm the new one with the quick temper and the uncontrollable homicidal tendencies.

In the desert, initially, everywhere is like everywhere else—sky, sand, mountains. So far, this was the extent of what I’d seen in my involuntary roost. Then the day began to ebb, the world turned to topaz and gold, and the color of the sky seemed to sink away into the disc of the sun. I found I really could touch the beauty of it then, as I had touched its beauty so long ago when I was free to travel where I wished, and the city still owned me. Now, tinged with my sorrow, the loveliness was bittersweet, but strong as wine.

I said, “When you are on your deathbed, Erran, pray that you never meet me in the place you are going to.”