How foolish was the fox. How blind. To not see, not value the friendship, the affection, the trust the brown bird offered him.

... he had learned from repeated error not to ignore these quiet proddings, whether of conscience or of God.

I found I quite enjoyed having you under the same roof. Being able to see you, hear your voice many times a day. I miss that.” His eyes locked on hers. “I miss you.

The priest's lesson: beware the Nightlord, for his pleasure is a mortal's doom. My grandmother's lesson: beware love, especially with the wrong man.

Metaphors are dangerous, Metaphors are not to be trifled with. A single metaphor can give birth to love.

The greatest thing in style is to have a command of metaphor.