“Have you heard the children’s rhyme about me?” Jaska asked. “I have, unfortunately.” Jaska wiped a hand down his face. “Kind of catchy.” “The children have a gift for meter.” Jaska laughed.” — Charlie N. Holmberg Copy Share Image
“She believed in Him; she always had. To think He didn’t exist . . . she’d be a shell empty of its nut. God… — Charlie N. Holmberg Copy Share Image
“Mad Olia had a lot to say, and most of it was nonsensical, if it could be understood at all. Like bad poetry spoken… — Charlie N. Holmberg Copy Share Image
“Faith is a very personal thing, really. Just because you don’t meet with a group of people once a week who believe everything exactly… — Charlie N. Holmberg Copy Share Image
“Condemned by your people. Opened the second. Condemned by yourself. Opened the third. To see who you were. Opened the fourth. To see who… — Charlie N. Holmberg Copy Share Image
“Six days. The man had been gone six days, and that was all he had to say about it?” — Charlie N. Holmberg Copy Share Image
“I think life would be much . . . simpler . . . if a man could believe in one solid thing,” he answered, still not looking at… — Charlie N. Holmberg Copy Share Image
“I’d say, Ceony,” he said after swallowing, “had I not been present for the lessons, I’d think you’d found a way to enchant pasta.”… — Charlie N. Holmberg Copy Share Image
“Before she went to bed, she loaded her Tatham percussion-lock pistol and added its weight to her bounty of spells. One didn’t always need… — Charlie N. Holmberg Copy Share Image
