I go to the window again in my terry-cloth robe, my heart pumping, a zizzy bee-sting quiver down my arms and legs, my bare feet cold on the floor planks.

the universe as body, mass as energy and energy as mass, became transformed to spirit when, through us, originating laughter found a name for everything that is and nourished into breathful form.

The younger Targaryen feels as though she’s lost any intimacy that tethered her to compassion and humanity, and so all that remains is the imperious need to rule that has driven her all these years, now bereft of the warmth that previously tempered her.

Hey Schlossie [=Jeremy Schloss], I just shat in your shoe.