"A few other works, half of which turn out to be rubbish. Always a problem with written sources, which frequently tell you far more about the person who wrote them than the subject addressed."

"Everyone talks to the gods, no one expects them to answer."

"I’d sent to my superiors in Whippoorwill twice, but have got no reply yet. And written to the divines in the neighbor vales. One said he could not help, and the other…was less helpful.” Gallen grimaced. “My prayers have fared no better.”"

"The gods do not act for our ends, but for Theirs."

"It occurred to him that the attitude of supplication was identical to that of surrender on a battlefield."

"A well-practiced prayer that he knew how to do. So he did, whispering the words aloud. In all, he was relieved that no one answered."

"“Hair shirts, really, what is the point?” She gave the impression of a faint, dramatic shudder, and Pen smiled despite himself. She added more tartly, “And it indicates a deep confusion of thinking to mistake one’s own discomfort for a benefit to another.”"

"The sharpest fall of all, from life to death."

"Heaven weeps, but free will is sacred. The meaning of yes is created by the ability to say no."

"Four thousand, so many! It matters less where I begin, as that I begin."

"Taste the betrayal of the gods, then; I have dined on it for ages."

"Talking to the gods had been a much more comfortable proposition when there had seemed no danger of Their talking back."

"It was lately suggested to me, by a man with longer experience of the gods than I can rightly imagine, that the reason the gods do not show our paths more plainly is that They do not know either. I haven’t decided if I find this reassuring or the reverse. It does hint they do not torment us solely for Their amusement, at least."

"“Inventing as you go, are you?” “Yes, I am quite godlike in that way, if no other.”"

"But even the gods cannot see infinitely far ahead. Our free wills cloud Their vision, even though Their eyes are more piercing than ours. The gods do not plan, so much as take advantage."

"If there is one thing that I have come to hate more than the gods, it is time."

"I learned long ago not to exhaust myself grappling problems that time will carry away on its tide."

"“Do you fear the gods will destroy you?” That disturbing smile again. “That is not a fear. That is a prayer.” “Or…do you fear their punishment? That they would plunge your soul into some eternal torment?” Wencel leaned forward, up on his toes. “That,” he breathed in Ingrey’s ear, “would be redundant.”"

"“It must have been an interesting chat. Did Cumril survive it?” “Temporarily.”"

"Oh, fine new friends you have—until They betray you. If the gods toy with you, cousin, it is for Their ends, not yours."

"So much of the uncanny—or the holy, for that matter—is inward experience. As such, testimony about it tends to be tainted. People lie. People delude themselves, or others. People are swayed or frightened or convinced they have seen things they have not. People are, frankly, sometimes simply mad."

"Such corruption feeds on its own success when it meets no correction."

"Her lips curved up. “That’s very Ingrey of you, Ingrey. Always look on the dark side.”"

"The gods have no hands in this world but ours. If we fail Them, where then can They turn?"

"Magical powers worked sometimes; material powers worked all the time."

"I do not know where I am going. But I am quite weary enough of where I’ve been."

"It is not, you know, that you lie well, cousin. It’s merely that no one is foolhardy enough to call you on it. This may have given you an inflated idea of your skill at dissimulation."

"It is as much an error to take truth for lies, as lies for truth."

"But have you ever overheard two women discussing men? Men are crude liars, comparing their drabs, but women—I'd rather have a Mother's anatomist dissect me alive than to listen to the things the ladies say about us when they think they are alone."

"“And what guidance did you receive for all your prayers, lady?” She bit her lip. “None.”"

"“High court politics,” said Ingrey slowly, “are as godless as anything I know.”"

"All my life I have prayed, and all my life I have been refused answer. I scarcely believed in the gods anymore, or if I did, it was only to curse them for their indifference. They betrayed my father, who had served Them loyally all his life. They betrayed my mother, or They were powerless to save her, which was as bad or worse. If a god has come to me, He certainly hasn’t come for me!"

"All sorts of men had the capacity to kill for the convenience of their betters; though usually, the only spell required could be fitted in a clinking purse."

"I saw no reason to stop my life for other people’s theories."

"Oswin was the most perfect servant of the Father, always so concerned for figuring out the exact rules and getting himself on the right side of them. Or them on the left side of him."

"Those who are unwilling to admit error are fated to repeat it?"

"Indifference served him quite as well as integrity."

"It still felt like hauling buckets from a well of memory with a rope that burned his hands."

"So when Audar the so-called Great slaughtered four thousand Wealding prisoners of war at Bloomfield, it’s said he didn’t pray at all. That made it a proper Quintarian act, I suppose, and not heresy. Some other crime, perhaps, but not human sacrifice. One of those theological fine points."

"“Your pleasure, my lord?” he inquired nervously. To be anywhere but here, doing anything but this."

"Boleso’s men, Ingrey was reminded, were out of the habit of questioning the sense of their superiors’ orders. Or perhaps it was that any who dared were got rid of, one way or another, and these were the remainder. Residue. Scum."

"Too little payment for a crime, too much for an accident."

"One scarcely knows if he would be of more use to us as a hostage, or set loose to be a very bad enemy leader."

"...your soul is your own, now, to make of what you will. We are all of us, every one, our own works: we present our souls to our Patrons at the ends of our lives as an artisan presents the works of his hands."

"An hour will suffice. If it is the right hour."

"We are all, every living one of us, doorways between the two realms, that of matter that gives us birth, and that of spirit into which we are born in death."

"The gods would take him and leave me bereft, and I curse them!" "I have cursed them for years," said Ista dryly. "Turnabout being fair."

"One learns better than to hand one's choices to fear. With age, with every wound and scar, one learns."

"You are a most excellent lawyer, for a dead man."

"He gave me no sign. I was never the sort to receive portents, or to delude myself that I had. Silence was always my portion, in return for my prayers."