More Like Some Small, Fierce Bird Of

Why Should I Be Polished And Improved Like Goods For Sale? I Might Not Even Want To Marry! And Besides, I Have Many Skills. I Can Read And Write And Play The Flute And Harp. Why Should I Change To Please Some Man? If He Doesn’t Like Me The Way I Am, Then He Can Get Some Other Girl For His Wife.

Bran Held His Voice Leve. "in Time,you Will Regret These Words. You May Hold Me Captive Now, And Believe Me Helpless. But Each Foulword You Speak Of Her Brings Your Death A Little Closer." --bran To Eamonn

Liadan," He Said, Staring Intently At The Ground. "yes," I Whispered. "don't Wed That Man Eamonn. Tell Him, If He Takes You, He's A Dead." --bran

For Indeed You Have A Choice. You Can Flee And Hide, And Wait To Be Found. You Can Live Out Your Days In Terror, Without Meaning. Or You Can Take The Harder Choice, And You Can Save Them.

This Had Been Real: Real In Its Flaws And Uncertainties, Real In Its Small Triumphs, Real In Its Compromises And Understanding.