Is that all souls are for? For when we die?"
"No. They're for living, too.

You've got to have, like, a lentil for a soul to hate wiener dogs.

I...I sang," she whispered, "if that matters," and Karou felt her heart pulled to pieces. This Misbegotten warrior, fiercest of them all, had crouched in an icy stream bed to sing a chimera soul into her canteen, because she hadn't known what else to do.
The singing wouldn't have mattered, but she wasn't going to tell Liraz that. If Ziri's soul was in that canteen, Karou would happily learn whatever song Liraz had sung and make it part of her resurrection ritual forever, just so that the angel would never feel that she'd been foolish.

What was he? Storyteller and secretary and doer of odd jobs, neither Tizerkane nor delegate, just someone along for the dream.

She knocked and waited, because when the door was opened from within, it had the potential to lead someplace quite different.

Infinities are not for casual exploration. You could fall and keep falling. You could get lost.